Daughter of Eve: Return to Narnia
by Victoriane
Summary: Sequel to DoE: Tale of a Forgotten Queen - What if Natasha had been pulled back to Narnia with the Pevensies to aid Prince Caspian? The film got me thinking... Peter/OC, Caspian/Susan MOVIEVERSE
1. Now We're Back At The Beginning

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**I**

* * *

The underground had been dirty and cold, brought on by the forever-dust of sand bags and marching feet. The beach where they stood was its polar opposite, warm and fresh with a salty breeze to tang the clean air. No streets to bind the earth, no teeming walkers resolute in their common path. That this was something else - Magic.

It coursed through his veins, granting new life to Peter and his siblings. Such was the work of enchantments, digging deep beneath the surface to the heart still beating the wild tattoo of a noble king or queen. They stood in silence, feeling the wind and the air work its wonders on their youthful shells, drawing out what had long remained dormant during their year under shadow. Lucy laughed, breaking the spell of silence, and kicked off her cold, leather shoes. Edmund followed, and then Susan.

The trio splashed into the shallow, enjoying the ocean and the sun they had gone long without. Peter was quiet, watching with grave eyes. He eyed the coast, looking for something, anything familiar. The island to the east, barely visible on the hazy horizon, could be Galma if he put his mind to it. But then - no, this was not Narnia. This beach was too long to be that of Cair Paravel, running too deep towards the mainland. The mainland? This was no peninsula, as his palace had been, but an island. Certainly not Narnia. Aslan had sent them on a new adventure, to a new place and time.

"Peter!" Lucy laughed, beckoning him to come to them. "Come now, it's alright! A little cold but the sun more than makes up for it!"

He hesitated and craned his neck, eyeing the cliffs above. "I think I'll look around," he muttered, almost inaudible to his siblings. Susan and Edmund exchanged wary glances, their eyes meeting over Lucy's fading smile.

"He's gone to look for her," the eldest sister said. The island suddenly seemed very quiet.

"Well, he won't find anything," Edmund gestured to the ruins upon the cliff, perched and staring down on the beach. "I don't remember any ruins in Narnia and surely not any islands such as this."

Lucy kicked the water, her contenance troubled. "Well, I suppose if you think about it, Tasha came to Narnia around the same time we did, so it makes a bit of sense to think she might be pulled along with us here. Right?"

"You've got a bit of a point there, Lu," Edmund said, "but then she had a purpose. Aslan brought her for Peter, didn't he?"

Susan scoffed, "Oh, that's rich, fancying Aslan as some royal matchmaker. Well, in that case," she raised her head and yelled skyward, "I'd like someone tall, dark and handsome!"

"Don't joke!" Lucy scolded, tugging on her sister's arm.

"It can't hurt, can it?" Susan shrugged, turning back to the dry beach. "At the very least, I'll get Aslan's attention so he can arrive and point us in the proper direction. Lion knows Peter needs it."

"You shouldn't pick on him," Edmund said, his voice low and grave as if he were addressing a court or a king instead of his sister. "He's had a hard year."

Susan bristled, "We've all had a hard year," she spat and the shadow of a queen flashed across her features. "And I _don't_ pick on him."

"You weren't at school with us. He's been in a dozen fights this year, all utterly stupid, all points of pride. Underneath, he's still High King but there's no room for that in this world."

"Our world, you mean," Susan muttered. Lucy wrinkled her nose.

Edmund shook his head. "And at night, he dreams about her." He fell silent, remembering the pale, hollow picture of his brother after a night of bitter, dreaming sleep.

Lucy sniffled, on the verge of tears. "I dream about Aslan and Narnia. Sometimes Mr. Tumnus. They all tell me the same thing."

"What's that?"

She looked down, her now-long hair hiding her frown. "That everything will turn out all right. And that Aslan," she sighed, looking back up, "Aslan is always with us."

Susan began wringing her hands. "Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia. That's what he told me."

Lucy smiled through her tears and hugged her sister around the waist. "Oh, I do hope he's brought us back!"

Edmund bit his lip and turned to survey the landscape once more. "If this is Narnia, than it has changed but for the better or worse, I cannot say."

"Please be Narnia," Lucy whispered, "Please."

* * *

"Don't be Narnia," Peter said aloud. He stared at the ruins, an eerie sense of belonging assaulting his senses. No. This could not be. If this was Narnia it would kill him, it would destroy what little fire he had left in him. If this was Narnia, he would have some choice, profane words to throw at Aslan and the Heavens.

"Not Cair Paravel." This was not the palace, _their_ palace, where that had been so much joy and peace. Now it seemed to hold only wild apple trees, broken rock and the occasional bird call. He felt his heart plummet at the familiarity in the carvings of the walls - a satyr here, the scrollwork at the base of a cracked column. Peter squinted and imagined a high ceiling, polished floors and dais with five thrones. He shook his head, ridding himself of the image. "No use, Pete. Don't get yourself worked up again," he muttered to himself. "You can't go back."

His feet led him and he passed through a broken arch into a courtyard. Apple trees reached over the crumbled walls, their fruit fallen and rotted in corners. The flagstones were cracked and overgrown with thick, ropey grass. There was no denying it now. Peter glared at the rusted fountain, succumbing to moss and the rot of the time. The bronze horse in its center reared, more menacing than he remembered. A wedding present, from Archenland.

His legs wobbled and he fell to his knees. He bowed his head and felt the years wash over him like a dark tide, pulling at his heart and mind. He hadn't the strength enough even to scream.

Her laughter was all around him, taunting the High King with its presence. He knotted his hands into the grasp, turning his anger upon the vegetation as he ripped it from the earth. He could smell her now, fresh as morning and more intoxicating than any perfume. In his belly, something growled, something that had lain dormant until only the depths of night had prodded it from slumber.

The laughter grew louder and he covered his ears, cursing the Lion and God and whatever else he could lay his mind on. But not her. No, she was an angel without blame or discord. He had tried not to think about what had happened, about what she had done when the horses returned, riderless. It was the deepest stab to an already wounded heart.

There wasn't much else he could do but stay there. The sun beat down but he had never felt so cold, even in the depths of the Witch's Winter, he had never been so frozen. This was a more terrible punishment than dreaming of her face and waking to find it gone, worlds and oceans away. This was Narnia, without Natasha. It was a cold and hollow place for him.

He didn't want the others to come up here. This was his cross to bear, his weight to carry. They would know this place as Narnia, but only he could understand that they could never, never go back. Time, it seemed, had taken that from them. Time had robbed the Pevensies of the country they once knew and loved.

"Get up, Pete," he moaned. "Get up."

Peter stood and found his legs, though shaky, would support him again. His fingers twitch - again, that Narnian air. He could feel the old knowledge of swords - and a woman - returning to his hands. He needed to do something, anything, to shake himself from his grieving stupor. There should be a door, the treasure chamber, somewhere hidden in the next room.

He left the courtyard without a backwords glance and ran his hand against the stone wall, feeling for the tell-tale sign of the hidden room. It was difficult, discerning crack from doorhold, but he needn't have tried. The false wall had slid away, perhaps pushed by a larger animal, and the rotten door behind eaten through. He was fooling himself. Surely the chamber was empty, having long been relieved of its many wonders.

But a flicker of light caught his eye. Torches. Deep below in the chamber that should have been dark. Thieves, his mind screamed and Peter the Magnificent did not hesitate before slipping quietly through the hole onto the steep, winding stairs.

He crept in quiet and as the light grew stronger, he could make out the steps more clearly. Things were better preserved here and there was the hiss of deep magic in the air. Some enchantment had kept this place for a time. At the base of the stairs, a torch had been set into a sconce on the wall, left to burn and cast flickering shadows on the larger room. There was a scratch or hiss somewhere and Peter whirled, snatching the torch, brandishing it as a warrior would a sword.

"Who's there?" he growled, every bit a king of old. This was not the shaky voice of a boy, but the resonant tones of a man.

The shadows made it difficult to discern statue from person and he waved it about, hoping to cast light into the darker corners. His gaze was fierce and penetrating and he thought he saw something move. Peter's warrior sense came too late and he shivered at the sensation of cold steel against the nape of his neck.

"Be careful, Thief," a voice said, "There is a magic here too great for the likes of you." Though the sound was resolute and stony, there was no mistaking the gender. A woman had a sword to the head of High King Peter. "Where did you come from?"

Peter's mind reeled. The voice - he couldn't place it. "Outside."

"No jokes," she growled through gritted teeth, "Or do you not favor your head?"

He could sense the smallest inflection of fear. She was alone. He needed to distract her, so he spoke again. "As much as the next king."

"King?" she scoffed, "I recognized none but the true High King Pe-!"

Peter dropped the torch and blocked the light with his body, casting her into semi-darkness. She fell back but not quickly enough as he grabbed her wrist and wrenched away the sword. The blade was familiar, the weight and grip perfect still. It was Rhindon, his kingly gift from Father Christmas all those years ago. There was a thump and she fell against the ground.

"You call me thief when it is you who bears the sword of another?" he yelled, and scrambled to snatch up the torch.

She made for the weapons set against the wall but turned at his words. "That is Rhindon, Blade of High King Peter, and if any but he would wield the sword, it would be me!" She was livid, roaring now, and he was surprised this dragon-woman did not breathe fire.

He grabbed at the torch and turned, sword in hand. She had her back turned and lunged for the nearest weapon, a gilded axe. "I'm sorry to disappoint, miss, but _he_ has returned and would claim what is his own."

The girl whirled, straining to lift the heavy axe when his words processed in her mind. The pieces fit together - the shadow of a face, the familiar voice. She dropped her axe and stumbled back, jaw slack. He was shorter than she remembered but still tall, and magnificent as ever with the dying torch and sword in hand.

Her head spun and she nearly fainted. She slumped against the wall and murmured her response. "Then claim it."

Finally, his eyes fell on her face in the weak light. He dropped his sword, and the torch, plunging them both into darkness.

"Peter?"

"Natasha."

* * *

**So I woke up this morning inspired beyond comprehension. This is the result. Easily my favorite chapter I've ever written. Really hope for feedback and would adore the return of the faithful from before. Sorry for the wait and I hope everyone enjoys this semi-sequel to Tale of a Forgetten Queen.**

**BTW, reviewers are my homeboys and girls, so be one of them.**


	2. Doesn't Mean That You Have To Forget

**OMGEEE IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK!! Just thinking that I actually have a sequel gives me chills. Hurrah for all of you, thanks ever so much for reading and reviewing. Don't worry, I love SuCasp as much as the next person and it will be coming, but I can't very well do it until Caspian shows up now can I? Heehee, all in good time -- however, I wonder if anyone caught my sort-of direct reference in the first chappie?**

**But never fear, faithful, Natasha and Peter will be playing a starring role here and since so many of you have asked what happened to her for all those years, it's only fitting the Pevensies ask as well so that everyone gets an answer. Enjoy!**

**And if the ages are a teensy-bit screwy...deal with it. Sorry, but for story's sake, let it go you insatiable nitpickers. **

**Also, if anyone has access to a Prince Caspian script, I'd love to get it so I can get everything in order.**

* * *

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**II**

* * *

In the darkness, they tripped.

They stumbled.

They gasped as their hands met, and then she was in his arms, completely ready and willing to never, ever let go.

They didn't need the light to find each others' lips. Like a blind woman, Natasha traced his nose and his cheeks, memorizing every curve. She brushed his jaw, then his neck. He was much smaller than she remembered, but it was expected and unimportant. He was Peter and that was all she needed to sustain her.

Peter was more adventurous, exploring all her curves without hesitation. Down her back and up her neck, caressing where his fingers met bare skin. His breathy moan was guttural, possessive. _Mine_, the primal creature inside screamed. And still, they were joined at the mouth, unwilling to break apart. Only when his warm hand slipped inside her collar did she pull away.

"Peter," she breathed, her voice weak with desire. "I can't-."

She had no words and that in itself spoke volumes. He kissed her again but his touch was chaste. After all, they were barely more than children. Old in spirit but young in body.

"No worries, Natasha." Her name dripped from his mouth like audible wine. "Natasha, Natasha, Natasha," he sighed, almost gasping for air in the suddenly stifling chamber, "my darling queen."

She laughed and it was musical, no longer haunting his mind. "Now I cannot scold Aslan when we meet Him."

"I had some choice words for Him myself, but now my mind's a complete blank."

In the dark, she smiled. "Completely?"

He nodded, though it was in vain. "I'm all instinct now," he murmured, leaning towards her again. His lips brushed her chin and she shivered. Her soul screamed for him, for the fiery touch that would ignite her spirit again, but again, she reluctantly drew away.

"Peter, I'm fifteen," she said, her voice quavering. "This- this body, I mean."

"Well than let's get a little light in here, and hopefully my propriety will follow." She didn't need a torch to know he was smirking, if only a little put-out. He understood her point, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He reached into his pocket and struggled to strike a match. He hesitated; what if this was another dream? What if the light brought the morning and the end once again? He feared he would not be able to stand waking to another empty day, to the void her absence had created?

She knew his thought, for they mirrored her own. "I'm here, Peter," she whispered, laying a hand on his arm. He inhaled, reveling in her scent.

"I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

The three younger Pevensies had grown tired of the beach or, rather, more curious about the ruins. Edmund was fascinated by them and commented every so often as they wound their way up the cliffs. The climb was not very difficult, as there was a set of stairs cut out of the cliff that rose at a gentle incline. Even Lucy had very little trouble scaling them.

"That's a tower there, collapsed by the looks of it." He pointed with a short stick to the structure a hundred yards away.

Lucy shaded her eyes. "I have this queer feeling about this place, like it's trying to tell us something."

Edmund nodded. "It does seem all-too-familiar, doesn't it?"

They continued forward, intent on exploring every inch of the ruined castle as they could. Lucy skipped ahead of her siblings, crouching now and then to examine a flour or the rubble.

"I wonder where Peter's gotten off to?" Susan said. "If this is Narnia, I expect he'd be the first to know."

"Let him wander, Su," her brother muttered. "He's got a lot to mull over."

She bit her lip, fighting back a potentially nasty retort. Her year had been spent in restraint, trying not to scold Peter for his moping. After all, hadn't she loved and lost like he? Hadn't she seen a dozen suitors and loved them all in her own way? But in her heart, she knew. Peter's love ran deeper, deeper even than the magic that had first brought them into Narnia and stronger than the enchantments that brought them back.

She had no right to lecture him on love, as Edmund had so eloquently put it. She who cast away men like handkerchiefs and never thought twice once they had gone. Susan did not know love, at least, not the love her brother shared with his queen. No, she had not been so lucky in her conquests as he.

"I was always jealous of him, you know," she said, the sound barely audible. "Of what he had with her."

Edmund the Just nodded. His body may have regressed, but he retained the understanding and logic that had earned him his title.

"We all were, at some point or another. I don't suppose anyone can stand so close to such bliss and not be envious."

"But it seems wrong, especially now." She shook her head. "Perhaps, with time, he'll heal. Maybe even forget."

He scoffed aloud. "Would you forget the one person who ever brought you perfection?"

"No," she frowned. "I suppose not. It's just I've forgotten so much."

Edmund did not respond, content to ponder in silence. He watched his sister as she forged through the tall grass. She was Susan still, but a queen again? He could not decide. Of the four, she had been the first to stop waking in the night, to stop dreaming of their true home. He worried for her. If she forgot, if she left Narnia behind - he didn't want to think about it.

"Susan! Edmund!" Lucy's voice rose from the next crumbled room. "Come quick!" Her cry was excited, but nevertheless, Edmund sprinted to her with Susan close behind. They found Lucy standing in what once had been a great hall. She clutched a bouquet of wildflowers and had even woven a few blossoms into her undone hair.

She pointed towards the single intact wall and bounced on her toes. "It is Narnia, it is!"

"By Jove, Lu what do you-?" Edmund's gaze fell on the wall and the gaping hole cut into the rotted door. "Our treasure room." He paled and fell back a step, almost leveled by the revelation.

Next to him, Susan raised a hand to her mouth. She glanced around, watching the broken walls become her beautiful palace in her mind's eye. "Cair Paravel," she said, and gave a very small squeak. "Oh dear me."

"It must have been ages, hundreds and hundreds of years," Edmund mumbled. He crouched and fought through the grass until his fingers met cracked stone. "This doesn't happen in a century, not by a long shot."

Lucy spoke up, precocious as ever. "But Time's always been funny in Narnia, hasn't it? I suppose England is just slower." She made a point not to call her country 'home'.

"You know, Lu, you're much smarter than you let on," Edmund chuckled, proud of his sister's simple but insightful mind. She smiled, pleased at his praise.

And then Susan jumped, more on edge now that she knew they had come back and it had changed. "I say, look there!" She pointed to the rotted door and the now flickering light within.

"It must be Peter," Edmund said, his shoulders drooping. "So he knows we're here again."

Lucy looked away, her excitement draining away. "I suppose they're not here any- anymore." She sniffled slightly. "Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers. Everyone we knew, gone."

Edmund gestured to the ruins. "And everything, by the looks of it." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "This'll be hell on Pete."

His eldest sister nodded, her stare unfocused. So this was it. This was the best Aslan could do? After all they had done, this was the reward they had earned? She shook her head, clearing her mind before her thoughts became bitter and twisted.

Naturally, all three were taken aback by the sound of laughter. The light in the door brightened and soon two figures bounded out into the ruined hall. The first they knew, though his wide, white grin was unfamiliar now. Lucy was the first to recognize the second.

The young girl dropped her bouquet and hurtled forward, stopping only when she had nearly bowled Natasha over. The older girl laughed and dropped to her knees so she could embrace the little queen more fully.

"Oh, Natasha, I just knew it!" she cried, on the verge of happy tears. "I told them you would come, didn't I, Edmund?"

Natasha smiled brightly and brushed Lucy's hair from her face. "Well I'm glad you had faith, Dear Sister." She hugged her again, "Oh, it has been too long."

Peter looked on, all smiles, as his siblings became reacquainted with his queen. Susan's hug was stiff at first but soon melted into a true embrace and Edmund blushed furiously when Natasha kissed him on both cheeks. The sun seemed to shine brighter now that the five crowns of Cair Paravel were reunited beneath its bright face.

"Where did you come from? What were you doing? Was it like a pulling or a pinch, because I felt pinched-," Lucy rambled on, chattering like a Talking Squirrel at tea.

"Slow down, Lu, I'm sure Tasha will tell us in good time," Peter said, clapping a hand on his sister's shoulder. He had not stopped grinning and was looking quite the fool for it.

"Indeed," Natasha said, her smile matching his in intensity, "but only once I've had something to eat. I'm close to starving."

The Pevensies then realized how very hungry they were and had only been ignoring it in the face of the greater excitement. The five began a great hunt for anything edible and Edmund seemed to have the most luck as he returned to the hall with his arms full of apples, though he had been muttering about roots and berries when he marched off into the courtyard.

The apples were sweet and fat, and after eating their faces were sticky with juice. Peter kissed the apple away from Natasha's cheeks until his younger siblings whined in protest. Edmund was most amusing, pretending to projectile vomit into Susan's lap. She, on the other hand, was strangely quiet, her mind clearly elsewhere.

"I did feel pinched," Natasha said suddenly. She was addressing Lucy's question from before. Edmund and Peter straightened, eager to hear what she had to say. "I was sleeping and I heard this wonderful, resonant sound, quite like a horn. Then there was a horrible pinch. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to make me take notice. And then I was here, in the hall."

"We came to the beach," Peter said. It seemed like an age had passed since he stood, melancholic, on the beach below.

She took his hand, sensing his discomfort, before she turned back to her friends. "All our treasures are still down there," she added, nodding back to the door. "Every gown, every cup we could ever remember."

And then Susan spoke, taking a step towards the question she knew Peter could not bring himself to ask. "I suppose you remember a great deal more, or did you return when we did? Before I mean, when we were kings and queens here."

Natasha eyes clouded and she looked away. "I did not return." Peter clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on her hand, but his silence prodded her to continue. "Aslan had set a task before me and I could not return until I completed it."

The Pevensies watched her with baleful eyes and even Lucy was still. Natasha seemed to be falling back to her darkest hour, when she had wept on a stone floor, screaming for the one man who could not hear her. "There was war coming and Aslan could not leave Narnia leaderless. I kept the throne for him and protected Narnia the best I could."

"War?" Edmund said, his curiousity getting the better of him.

"The giants had returned, in greater numbers, from Ettinsmoor. And then there was Calormene," she cursed, shutting her eyes. "The giants were a slice of pie next to the Tisroc. He never invaded," she added quickly, eyeing Peter's sour expression, "but it came closer than I would have ever liked."

It was Lucy's turn and she piped in, "How long, Tasha?" Her voice was soft, small, and wholesome.

Again, Natasha turned her head, her hair hiding her face from Peter. "Fifteen years."

Peter stood so quickly he almost wrenched Natasha up with him. She fell back, watching him carefully, as his expression became livid. He stifled a lionish roar and ran a shaking hand through his hair. Every nerve threatened to burst with anger and frustration. Fifteen years, alone. Fifteen years, without him.

Fifteen years.

For a great many minutes, Susan could not look Natasha in the eye. Inside, she wept for her lost sister.

Edmund shifted and stared at the grass. He distracted himself as best he could examining the greenery.

And Lucy, valiant Lucy, softly began to cry.

For the first time since that day, since those hours on the floor of her bedroom, Natasha wept as well.


	3. It's Never Been This Way Before

**Okay so I have sort of a playlist of inspiration that gets me writing all this again and it's only appropriate I pass it on. So here goes. I really should save this for after the chapter, but just in case some people like an audio factor with their reading...**

**_The Call_, Regina Spektor - From the Prince Caspian film, it works perfectly for both SuCasp as well as Peter and Natasha  
_I Want You (She's So Heavy)_, The Beatles but I prefer the Across the Universe version - I think it captures what both Pete and Tasha are feeling and will be feeling throughout the fic  
_All Around Me_, Flyleaf - Again, very Peter/Natasha, but better for an action sequence. I'm thinking the raid or the final battle.  
_Stranded_, Plumb - Fluff, fluff, fluff but appropriate to a T.****  
_Bleeding Love_, Leona Lewis - Another sappy one.  
_A Narnian Lullaby_, Harry Gregson-Williams - For those of you who read the first, it's what they dance to.  
And then of course everything on the Prince Caspian soundtrack, which is lovely.**

* * *

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**III**

Susan felt as if her tongue had become glued and for once, she had no words. Instead, her body moved of its own accord, shifting until she had wrapped Natasha in a sisterly embrace. Her eyes fell on Peter's back and she could see he was shaking. They couldn't do this forever, though. The shadows were growing deeper and already the wind carried an evening chill.

"It's past," she murmured, brushing away a few of Natasha's tears. "What matters now is that we're back together, we're here again."

Edmund felt very grateful for his sister and was stirred to action by her words. He stood and laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. "She's right, old chap."

"Yes, yes," Natasha said, sniffing very sharply and wiping her eyes. "It's silly really, I'm sorry I mentioned it. We shouldn't dwell on what we can't help when we've got now to worry about." Her tone was full of false cheer, but it did the trick. Lucy sprang back to her feet and craned her neck, trying to get a better glimpse into the now dark treasure room.

Peter didn't move, his fists clenching and unclenching in rage. Had Aslan been there, he would have attacked Him.

"Pete?" Edmund calm voice cracked his mind, bringing him back to sunlit ruins. "Come on, Pete, don't think about it. Not yet, anyway."

He whirled, his face very red and eyes wet. "How can I not think about it?" he hissed, looking very much like he would throttle the next person to try and calm him. "I swore an oath to her, one that He, in all his grand wisdom, broke!"

"Peter!" Natasha stood very quickly and all traces of her sadness had gone. She was now very stern, a shadow of the iron queen she had once been. "I will not hear such mockery from you, High King!" She may have been smaller, a good foot shorter than he, but the cold steel in her voice made him quail. Even Edmund was surprised and he dropped his arm from Peter's shoulder. By the door, Lucy took notice and froze.

This was Natasha, High Queen of Narnia, the Natasha they had never seen.

That woman was gone as quickly as she came and Natasha seemed to shrink. Her shoulders drooped and she fidgeted under the Pevensies combined gaze. "Like I said, we have other things to attend to," she added, her voice much smaller in comparison to before.

And with that, she hastened towards the rotted door, stopping only to pick up the dead torch. Peter lit it without question and followed her back down to the dark treasure room. His siblings followed, Edmund bringing up the rear with his new flashlight. All were silent, cowed by Natasha's sudden but needed outburst.

"The first thing we should do is try and arm ourselves. It would be rather foolish not to," she said, almost wincing at the imposing silence. They weren't used to this new person, to the stony countenance she now maintained. There was a wall in her soul that had not existed before, built up by the solemn and trying years in Old Narnia, and it did not show any signs of breaking.

As they reached the foot of the stairs, still strangely quiet she huffed and held the torch aloft, casting shadows across her features so that she appeared ethereal and ageless, forever a Narnian queen. "I'm sorry for before," she said, again in a quiet way, "I didn't mean to shout."

Peter felt as if his heart was breaking again, to hear such misery in her tone. "No, I needed it," he sighed. He now stood over her so that the torch illuminated them both. His gaze bore down on her eyes, still green as he remembered. "I'd still be up there moping if you hadn't shaken me to my senses."

She offered the smallest of smiles and nodded, happy that he understood. Now all she needed was to make sure that person, that stern and solemn woman inside, didn't escape again. "You're very cute when you're angry," she muttered, placing a hand on his broad chest. He grinned now and the heavy atmosphere seemed to lift, despite the corners of darkness in the chamber.

Lucy giggled and covered her mouth with a hand. She never could restrain herself when it came to her brother and his wife; they were her picture of romance and true love, a living, breathing, less tragic example of Romeo and Juliet.

She turned her gaze away from them and her eyes fell upon the chests set into the wall. Each one backed by a statue of a familiar likeness. Lucy ran to her chest first and threw it open. Her hands fell on cool silks and she held a dress up to herself.

"I was so tall," she laughed, comparing her small self to the gown.

Susan smiled and opened her own chest. "You were older then." On her far side, Edmund dug into his own treasures and emerged with a helmet balancing precariously on his head. Natasha laughed aloud at the sight and he smirked in her direction.

"As opposed to hundreds of years later," he chuckled from beneath the helmet, "when you're younger."

Peter hung back from his siblings, his eyes fixed on a carving of Aslan. Natasha squeezed his hand and he could feel her breath as she spoke.

"Go on," she whispered, giving him a small nudge in the direction of his own belongings. He smiled but his eyes did not twinkle and he approached the already open chest. The room was suddenly very quiet and devoid of all rummaging, even on Edmund's part, as the High King reached down into the stuff of memories. His siblings watched in silence as he drew out his shield.

Natasha stooped and picked his sword of the ground and then the scabbard from a stone table. She sheathed the sword and passed it back to him. "Sorry," she added with a smile, "I went picking through your things while I was down here."

"Well, if anyone has the right," he replied, mirroring her words from before, "you do."

Edmund, who had finally taken off the helmet, looked between them. "Am I missing something?"

Both Peter and Natasha laughed, the latter of whom blushed slightly. "Just my lady nearly took my head off an hour ago, when I first got in here," Peter said, his grin wide and not at all angry. His fury had seemed to melt away in the past few moments. Edmund glanced to Natasha and he smirked again. "We went at it hammer and tongs before I got a proper look at her face."

"I'm sure that's not all you went at," Susan muttered into her hand. Edmund snorted and Lucy looked around, puzzled. Natasha's blush deepened and Peter smirked, taking her hand again.

Lucy tugged at her sister's arm. "What do you mean?"

"Let's all get into some proper clothes, shall we?" Natasha said, her voice much louder than should have been. She moved to her own treasure chest, which was smaller in size and set away from the Pevensies, and pulled out some clothes.

Behind her, Peter had unsheathed his sword. He stared, transfixed, at the gleaming blade. It seemed not even Time could harm Rhindon. He squinted and read aloud the engraving upon the sword.

"When Aslan bares his teeth, Winter meets its death." His voice was grave. The voice of a king.

Lucy finished for him. "When He shakes His Mane, we shall have Spring again."

They trailed off into silence, staring at one another. Those two always did have their own kind of bond. Then Peter glared about at their surroundings, quite aware of the strange circumstances. "I think it's time we found out what's going on."

Edmund nodded, but his attention was drawn away by the familiar clink of chain mail. He looked over his shoulder, to where Natasha stood digging into her treasure chest. A sword hilt stuck out and in the dark alcove next to her, a suit of armor weakly reflected the torch light. It was curved and small, quite different from what he or his brother would wear. Then it hit him. The armor, the sword, the mail - it was hers.

But she had never ridden to war, not with himself or Peter, at least.

No, she must have done so alone. Just as she did so many other things after their departure.

He sighed and looked back to his brother who was now pulling out his own armor, trying to decide what would fit him again. Peter could not know, not yet at least. He would not be able to bear it and now they needed to be focused on more important things.

"That's a good sword," he muttered, now standing over her. He had grown so much over the past year.

She whirled, frightened by his sudden presence. Her eyes widened and she looked over to Peter. "You mustn't tell him, Ed."

He nodded, "I know." Quietly, he took the sword from the chest and unsheathed it with care so he could examine it better. The blade was worn and not so fine as Peter's sword. "The giants?" he asked, looking back to her.

She frowned. "And others." Her voice was cold. The queen was slowly resurfacing. Again, she glanced warily at Peter. He was more distracted by Susan, was nearly upended in her chest, searching for her horn. Lucy was sitting in her own treasures, hardpressed to find a gown the proper size.

"Others?" Edmund prodded, both curious and solemn.

"It was so long ago," she sighed, "Can't we leave it?" She didn't want that woman coming back again. Not now.

He watched her closely, examining her face as he would a jewel or a sword. Long ago, he had been Edmund the Just and quite perceptive to ways of Men and Beasts. She fidgeted and could not hold his gaze for long. Her eyes seemed dark, or perhaps it was just the light. There was something in the past, something that caused her great and terrible pain.

"Of course," he finally said, placing her sword back down. "But you know you'll have to talk to Peter sooner or later."

"I will, of course I will, but now," again she looked back, "Now is not the best time."

Edmund nodded curtly, bowing his dark head. "Agreed."

She smiled again, but this time the gesture was small and quick. "You'd better change as well. I expect Peter will want to be off exploring as soon as he can."

"As you wish, High Queen," he said, dropping into a shallow bow with a grin. She laughed and batted him on the shoulder before he turned away, stalking back to his clothing.

He had certainly changed in that single year. They all had, her most of all. Thirty years in Narnia and one in New York would do that to anybody, her most of all.

But they could never go back. She knew that instantly. What they had once, the Golden Age, was gone. Forever.

* * *

**Okay, a little shorter than the others but I am still loving every minute of this. I'm working super fast now because I just finished high school yesterday, that's right, all done, and next week will be crazy with prom and graduation. Also, my orientation for college is in two weeks and I still can't believe I'm actually going to my dream school. **

**If I'm not done with the fic by August, however, it will probably take a lot longer for me to post because I'm moving to California for school and I live in Massachusetts, so there will be lots of stuff to do. However, I'm going to be studying screenwriting so I'll be getting better at this writing as well - hopefully!**

**Happy reading and writing!**


	4. It's Just A Feeling

**Hahaha, just saw the film again! I've decided the Peter and Caspian fighting are the best bits, so rest assured I'm going to have a lot of it in here! Forgive me if some of the dialogue is off, I still don't have everything down and can't seem to find a transcript anywhere.**

**And don't worry, we're going to find out what happened to Natasha soon enough, once Peter calms down a bit, heehee. Also, I discovered that I LOVE writing Edmund. He's such a BAMF during the film. **

**P.S. Well done to a certain reviewer - you're very good at predicting my next moves!**

* * *

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**IV**

* * *

From the castle, they could that Cair Paravel had been separated from the mainland by a channel. From the marks on the cliffs and rocks, Edmund knew it was manmade. He and his siblings had come to the far side of the island, away from the sea, in hopes of finding some way across to their country. Edmund stooped to examine a rounded rock, too smooth to be naturally worn. "Catapults," he muttered again and glanced around.

The trees on the far bank were dark and still. Edmund frowned; he seemed to be the only one doing anything of much use.

Lucy was tracing shapes in the sand, mostly of Aslan, all while singing softly. Susan had gone down the shallow hill, closer to the channel, her bow in hand. And Peter and Natasha, well, Edmund couldn't blame them for not wanting to much of anything.

The pair stood in silence, facing the trees across the water. Peter had an arm around her, and she looked up at him, unblinking, trying very hard not to burst with happiness. He stared down on her, quietly. No words passed between them, yet their slow and gentle gestures spoke volumes. An embrace, a caress, a kiss. Their hearts beat wildly, though they appeared still and calm.

Peter ran a hand up her shoulder to hold her neck and he bowed his head towards her. She pushed forward so that she leaned into him, her lips at the hollow of her neck. "Peter," she murmured, enjoying the word almost as much as she did the person. In the back of her mind, someone stirred. That person wanted him to know, wanted her to tell him so very badly it hurt. "Peter, I-."

She cut herself off at the tell-tale sound of a twanging bow. "Susan," they said in unison. Edmund and Lucy followed them over a small rise to where Susan stood, her bow raised and form perfect. She remembered just as well as they did.

"Drop him!" she roared, and on instinct Peter and Edmund drew their swords.

In a curious little boat, two men, dark but not enough to be Calormenes, held a bound and gagged dwarf. The poor fellow garbled something and was thrown into the water. Peter and Edmund sprang from the shore like Susan's arrows from her bow. They returned, dripping wet. Peter carried the dwarf while Edmund dragged the boat towards the shore.

Lucy cut the dwarf's ties and he sat up, spitting water and spluttering around at them. He glared up at them, Susan especially.

"Drop him?" he echoed, rising to his feet in anger.

Susan narrowed her eyes, "A simple thank-you would suffice."

The dwarf waved a hand at her, as if dismissing the fact at hand. "Those Telmarines were fast enough to kill me without you rushin' 'em, lass."

Natasha bristled. "Look here, Red Dwarf, we've just- did you say Telmarines?" Her change in tone was quick.

"In Narnia?" Edmund added, looking puzzled.

"Where've you been for the last few 'undred years?" the dwarf grumbled.

"Away," was all Lucy could manage. "Why were they going to kill you?"

The dwarf chuckled and gestured to himself. "It's what they do to us." Edmund and Peter exchanged furtive glances.

Lucy bit her lip, "You mean Narnians?"

The dwarf nodded gravely. "Ever since they invaded," he said, "been trying to stamp us out, and thought they had for a while." Tentatively, he touched the open cut on his cheek. "That lord of theirs, Miraz, he's of a nasty sort."

Peter clenched his jaw, "Well he won't trouble Narnia much longer." He laid a hand on his sword hilt and settled back, rising to his full height.

The dwarf started, the color draining from his face. He stared around at the five; two girls alike in features, two boys bearing noble swords. The Kings and Queens of old. And the third girl, standing close to the eldest boy. The High Queen, was it? "Beards and beestings," he exclaimed, falling back. "You're it?"

Peter extended his hand, "High King Peter," he said, "The Magnificent." Next to him, Natasha raised an eyebrow and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"You probably could have left off the last bit," Susan muttered, shoving her brother.

The dwarf chuckled, "Probably. I'm Trumpkin, by the way. And you lot," he looked around at them, "you're not at all what we was expecting."

* * *

It took a great deal of fast-talking, arguing and even an impromptu swordfight to convince Trumpkin the five were indeed the Narnian Kings and Queens of Old. When he did finally believe, the Dwarf swept into a short bow, his red beard tickling the ground.

"Forgive me, Your Majesties," he said, straightening up again. "It's just- it's been so long, since we've had any real hope."

Peter nodded. "The Telmarines, you said." His face was grave. "What business do they have in Narnia?" Next to him, Natasha shifted. She chewed her lip and a flush crept to her cheeks.

"There was famine in Telmar, some years after after you lot left or went back or whatever it was that you did." Trumpkin added the last part bitterly. "They always were a violent people, more inclined to fight rather than negogiate." Peter and Edmund grimaced; they remembered the Telmarines well enough. "They came with their armies and war machines, pounding into Narnia until it was no more than a shadow of the Golden Age." Lucy gasped slightly and shook her head, as if her own denial could rewrite history. "The faithful were driven underground and for three hundred years, we've stayed there."

The air seemed to quiver with anger and sadness, resonating within and around the five monarchs.

Trumpkin continued his tale, for there was much more to say. "Only now, with Caspian on our side, and you all returned, do we 'ave any chance of challenging the Telmarines. Don't worry, I'll explain about 'im as well," he added, cutting off both Peter and Edmund before they could ask as to who this Caspian was. "Caspian, _Prince_ Caspian, is the true heir of the Telmarine throne, but he's on the run. Something about his uncle, that Miraz fellow, wanting to be king and trying to kill 'im."

Susan raised an eyebrow. "Just that?" she said, incredulous.

"I didn't get to see much of 'im, but I 'eard 'im blow your horn," he nodded to Susan. "And from what I gathered when I was captured, he's taken to waking Old Narnia and leading them in a revolt against Miraz."

"It's downright Shakespearean," Edmund muttered to himself.

Trumpkin cocked his head. "What's that?"

Edmund smirked and shook his head. "Nothing. Just, all this seems a little fantastic, eh?"

"And what about us?" Peter replied, gesturing to the five of them. "Coming back to Narnia after, what, three hundred years was it?"

The Dwarf looked very solemn and almost sorry. "Thirteen 'undred's more like it, my king."

Natasha felt the warmth drain from her fingers and she grew very pale, as if a sudden winter wind had sprung up on the sandy beach. The others reacted in very much the same manner, each one gasping or falling back in surprise. She would have stumbled as well had Peter's steadying hand not found the small of her back. He retained his composure the best he could and spoke for his siblings.

"And you're sure this Caspian intends to help Narnia? He is a Telmarine, after all."

Trumpkin shrugged. "I 'eard very little about 'im in captivity, but I know he's been educated to the ways of Old Narnia." Then he scratched his chin. "That Miraz wants 'im dead, and I'd bet my beard it's not just to claim the boy's crown."

Peter nodded, satisfied. For now. "Then we will help him, and Narnia." He spoke with resolve and didn't need to converse with his siblings or Natasha to know they shared his feelings.

"Good," the Dwarf chuckled. He rubbed his ruddy little hands together and gestured to the mainland. "I left Caspian at the Shuddering Wood, with Nikabrik and Trufflehunter the Badger. Those two will keep him safe and introduce him to the other Narnians if the opportunity presents itself. With any luck, Caspian's got the makings of an army already."

The humans listened intently and already Peter had begun to draw up battle plans in his mind. He went over the fortresses and holds they could occupy before realizing a moment later that those places were long gone or destroyed. It sobered him, if only a little, to the unique situation at hand.

"Even if he has Centaurs, and that's a very big if," Edmund said. He began to pace, speaking as he walked, "there's still the question of weaponry and armor. I know we have some here, for us at least, but what about the Fauns and the Satyrs and you Dwarfs? Not to mention the cost of feeding and outfitting an army of any size-."

Trumpkin held up a hand. "When we Narnians fight for our very freedom, we do not grow hungry. We will fight with sticks and rocks, if need be."

Susan knuckles whitened around her bow. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," she said in a very small voice.

Within herself, Natasha wholeheartedly agreed.

* * *

The sun had begun its descent towards the western horizon and the five humans had to hurry if they wished to be away from the island by nightfall. Susan, Peter and Lucy kept their gifts close, while Edmund and Natasha took anything useful they could find in the treasure chamber. The boys bundled up their armor into packs and both outfitted themselves with a sword, dagger and, in Peter's case, a shield. Susan and Lucy had their own weapons, a bow and dagger, respectively, while Natasha had quietly fastened her sword in its sheath to her back. Unlike the other girls, she pulled a pair of leggings on under her skirts and laced her boots high and tight. The toes were steel-tipped; good for kicking.

Peter took no notice, as he was hardly able to wrench his eyes from her face. Every moment he could, his gaze smoldered in her direction, creating both a blush in her cheeks and a fire in her heart. Taking advantage of Peter's distracted state, Edmund prepared another bundle of armor, smaller than his own, and stowed it under a bench in the boat.

The journey upriver was uneventful, marked only by a new bend in the river or the darkening forest that seemed to arch over them. Peter rowed and declined Edmund's offer to take turns. It was not like the High King to share the burden.

Natasha sat aft, perched on the last pench like a bird on a branch. She braided and unbraided her hair until it was nearly curling from the effort. Peter watched her, silent and smiling. He wanted to speak, he ached to talk to her about everything and nothing, but not here, not in front of his siblings. Edmund could almost smell the connection between his brother and his once-wife and moved to sit up front with the girls and Trumpkin. It was awkward enough getting caught in the middle of their meaningful stares once without having to suffer through it all afternoon.

"It's changed," she murmured, her eyes on Peter. He didn't know how to respond; she could mean a great number of things.

"It has," was his reply. "I wish we could go back."

She nodded and her eyes seemed to sparkle, but with tears or the coming sunset? "Strange, it was only a year ago and yet-."

"-And yet it feels like a lifetime?"

She nodded, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "It _was_ a lifetime, for me anyways." As soon as the words left her, she wished she could pull that back to deep place from whence they came.

He stiffened and a frown marred his features. Behind him, Edmund, Lucy and Susan tried to look busy. Trumpkin tried to eavesdrop.

"I was angry with Aslan for a long time," he growled. He stared at the bottom of the boat, unable to meet her eyes. "This was His doing, after all."

"Yes, I suppose so." She searched avidly for her next words, and chose just as carefully. "That night, after- after you were called back-," Peter winced, "-I had words with Him. I was a mess and I was horrible."

Finally, Peter looked up, his rowing unbroken by their conversation. "I don't blame you, and I'm positive He doesn't either."

She nodded and heaved a sigh. Her hand fell over the side of the point, trailing through the calm river. "It was your time, not mine. He knew that, and we didn't."

"I wish-."

"Don't," she said. "It's over. It's gone."

"-we had more time."

Her eyes danced. "Fifteen years is longer than many have. We should be grateful."

"Tasha, I am more grateful for you than for any other thing I have ever seen, held or been." Neither his voice nor his gaze wavered. She felt her breath catch. And then he smiled. "Besides, we have been given the greatest gift Aslan could ever hope to give."

"What's that?" she breathed.

He leaned forward, taking his hand from the oar and placing it on her arm.

"A chance to have it all again."

* * *

**And closer and closer we come to Caspian...Sorry if Susan and Lucy took a backseat this time around - they'll get lots more to do later!**

**Read and review...peace!**


	5. Before Your Eyes

**Um..because I ALWAYS forget disclaimers so..I DON'T OWN NARNIA. Just Natasha, although she's too much of a person to really be owned and okay I'm done. **

**Certain questions have arisen that I feel must be publicly addressed because they are _very good_ questions and everyone probably wants to know the answers. **

**1) I intend to acknowledge or perhaps elaborate on the Susan/Caspian relationship, but remember, Peter and Natasha are still the focus, so I won't be shunting them off to the side any time soon.  
2) The ending to Forgotten Queen doesn't exactly hold up now that all this has happened so I will probably, more than likely, rewrite it as the ending here.  
3) All this pregnancy speculation...My lips are sealed, friends.**

**Also, once this is over with, I might just build upon the years Peter and Natasha were married or courting. There's a lot of potential and material there, and it would be great to actually get into the meat of their story, which I'm ashamed to say I lazily skipped. I'm thinking Daughter of Eve: The Golden Age, or something, though it sounds awfully like that Queen Elizabeth movie...**

* * *

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**V**

* * *

They camped on the riverbank that night, close to the fork between the Great River and the Rush. As the night air cleared, Natasha could hear the smaller but stronger river charging over rocks and rapids. It would be too difficult to cross with the boat and so they would have to abandon the vessel in the morning. As Trumpkin said, Caspian would be in the Shuddering Woods and, if memory served correctly, the shortest and quickest way would be to ford the Rush. If all went well, they would be with Caspian by nightfall of the next day.

Trumpkin snored something horrible and, despite the pleasant warmth surrounding her, Natasha found it very difficult to sleep. She lay on her side, facing the fire, with Peter at her back. His breath tickled her neck and she delighted in the once familiar sensation. Not even Edmund or Trumpkin had commented on the sleeping arrangements and only Susan looked a little red when she saw Peter had draped an arm across Natasha's waist. She, on the other hand, didn't mind in the least and had leaned into him. It looked to be the best night of sleep she would have in a year, despite the cold ground, when the Dwarf starting growling along like a freight train.

The others didn't seem to mind him and had dropped off easily. To her dismay, Peter had dozed off first, which was understandable after a hard afternoon of rowing. She had hoped they could stay awake, at least for a little while, if not for the conversation but simply for the company. He was next to her, yes, but unconscious and that is a very different matter all together.

In Peter's defense, he fought sleep as best he could but it was a hopeless battle against his seemingly leaden eyelids. They drooped and he dropped off within minutes of lying down next to her. It was his best night of sleep in a year, with her hair for a pillow and her scent in his dreams.

She didn't move for fear of waking him and distracted herself with the fire. It danced and twirled, like they had so many years ago, or was it just one? No, she was too tired and too comfortable to think on such things. Aslan knew all the questions, He knew all the answers and there was no use bothering with it...

The fire was hypnotic and she drifted away, her last memory of a lion prancing through the flames.

* * *

She awoke to someone gently shaking her shoulder. Lucy.

"Come on, Tasha."

She felt the ground first, hard and cold as if the very night had sunk into it. Then she became aware of her aching back and the lack of warmth, from both the dead fire and an absent Peter.

"Tasha," Lucy giggled, shaking her again. "I didn't know you fancied the ground so much."

Natasha reluctantly sat up and rubbed her eyes. She already knew she had awoken with a face for radio, with her hair strung into a bird's nest and her face pale from the cold night. "What time is it?" she yawned, stretching out her sore limbs.

"Trumpkin says dawn was an hour ago."

"By the Mane," she cursed, almost falling back to the ground. Suddenly, it looked so inviting. "It's too early."

There was laughter from the direction of the river. "Having trouble, Lu?" Peter chuckled. He walked up to the small clearing where they had camped and crouched between his sister and his wife. "She never was a morning person." They exchanged smiles and Lucy simply rolled her eyes.

"Well, how can I be? I got hardly any sleep at all!" She waved her hands and nodded towards Trumpkin, who was helping Edmund with the armor. "It's like sleeping next to an airplane!"

Again, Peter chuckled. He offered her his hands and pulled them both to a standing position. "Perhaps tonight you'll have a proper bed, if that Caspian or whoever has secured us a fortress."

She narrowed her eyes and regarded Peter shrewdly. "You're not going to like him, are you?"

Peter tried, and failed, to look offended. "I haven't even met the chap!"

"So?" She shrugged and, as she passed, patted him on the arm in quite the condescending manner. "You're very judgemental, Your Majesty, in case you haven't noticed."

He scoffed and turned, following her back to the river. "Judgmental? I wasn't the one to insult that Tarkaan and nearly cause an international incident!" he chided. Natasha gasped aloud and her jaw gaped open.

"Oh, OH, that wasn't even my fault and you know it!"

Edmund, Susan and even Trumpkin took notice of their playful bickering. The former two, however, returned to their work just as quickly. Nothing special to see. Trumpkin, on the other hand, was not familiar with Peter and Natasha's temperments.

"What's gotten into them?" he muttered, looking to Edmund. The young king seemed to be the most sensible of the four.

For a moment, he didn't respond. "What? Oh, nothing."

"Nothing?"

Edmund pulled a face. "It's how they show affection."

Trumpkin matched the young king's expression. "You're funny, you lot," he muttered.

"Love does that, I guess," Susan replied. Her eyes seemed misty. "Although they were at it like that for years before they finally did get married."

The Dwarf slung his pack across his shoulders and shook his head. "As much as I'd like to stay and chat about lovebirds all day, we have a prior obligation to attend to."

"Of course," Edmund nodded. "Oy! Peter!" He went unnoticed by both of them, so he was forced to take more drastic measures. "Look, Aslan!"

Both Natasha and Peter froze, she with her hands on her hips and he with a hand raised. They forgot their quarrel quickly and looked about with a wild hope.

"Just kidding," Edmund said sheepishly and he pretended to cower in the face of whatever wrath he would be subjected to.

* * *

They set off on foot within the hour and, after only a weak breakfast of roasted apples and a fish Trumpkin had managed to catch, the five humans found themselves winding deeper into shallow canyons of rock. It was so green and alive compared to their world, and yet Narnia had never seemed so dead. "They used to dance," Lucy muttered, staring at the trees. Her mind strayed to the beautiful dryads who were once old and beautiful friends. She laid a hand on a still tree trunk and shuddered; whatever life that lay within had retreated so deeply she no longer feel even its echoes. The knowledge saddened, and sobered, her; this was not Narnia as they knew it. They were not in Kansas anymore.

Peter walked up front, leading the group through the labyrinth of rock and moss. He hummed softly now and then, sometimes holding Natasha's hand. Even their hands, their fingers, knew each other.

Trumpkin followed along at a stumpy pace, grunting and glaring whenever the displays of affection grew too much for his stomach.

"I don't remember this way," Susan said as she stepped around a particularly large stone.

Peter grinned back at her. "That's the matter with girls, can't carry a map in your heads." Susan and Natasha pretended to look offended, while Lucy saw an opportunity.

"That's because our heads have something in them," she giggled. Even Edmund smirked, if only a little.

Truly, Natasha knew the way just as well as Peter, but didn't comment on it. She knew it would only bring up the past and what she did then. Still, the wound was fresh. Still, it pained her to remember. So she didn't, as best she could. Instead, she looked ahead, to the Rush and Caspian, to whatever Aslan had laid before them.

The Dwarf, who had been looking bothered for the past hour, could no longer bite back his tongue. "Forgive me, High King, but exactly where are you going?"

Peter turned around, puzzled. Up until now, the Dwarf seemed very sensible and intelligent. "You said you left Caspian in the Shuddering Wood." He spoke slowly, as if he were addressing a child. _Oh, don't patronize him, Peter_, Natasha thought with a wince. "The quickest way to him is to cross the River Rush." Peter spoke with finality; that should have been the end of it.

But Trumpkin pressed on. "Unless I'm mistaken, there's no crossing in these parts."

The High King tightened his jaw. "That explains it," he clipped. "You're mistaken." With that, he turned on his heel to continue walking. His pace had considerably quickened and Lucy as well as Susan hastened to keep up with him.

Natasha shot a withering look at his retreating form and shook her head. "Stubborn as a mule," she muttered. Trumpkin eyed her, and, she had to admit, he might have a point. The Dwarf knew Narnia, _this _Narnia at least, better than any of them. "Don't pay that any mind, Trumpkin," she added to him. "This is strange for him, for all of us."

The Dwarf nodded and walked past her. "Well buck up, Your Majesty, because it's about to get stranger. After all, we're about to throw ourselves in with the Telmarines." He glanced over his shoulder at her, a curious look in his eye. He was testing the waters. "And I think we both know that's not going to be easy for you."

She flushed and chewed her lip, expecting a quick response to rise. It didn't and she fell silent, allowing Trumpkin to pass her. With a few quiet steps, Edmund was at her shoulder. "So, you've got a problem with Telmarines too?"

"Don't push it, Ed."

"It's just the list is getting rather long." He began ticking off names on his hands. "Giants, Calormenes, now Telmarines. Narnia had so many enemies, no wonder Aslan kept someone behind."

He knew his words were callous, but she was taking too long to open up. Even to Peter, she said nothing, and he was too blinded by his love to notice that there was something unfamiliar behind her eyes. So the task fell to Edmund to discover the truth, at least while his brother was unable or unwilling.

"What happened, Tasha?"

She hesitated, her mouth flapping open. What kept her quiet?

"You mean you don't know the stories?" Trumpkin glanced between them. Her eyes darkened, pleading for his silence, but Dwarves never were the best at reading people. "After you four left, 'Er Majesty 'ad 'er hands full-."

"Trumpkin!" Natasha snapped, but he pressed on.

"-with the wars in Telmar and Ettinsmoor. I don't know the 'ole of it as I'm a little dark on my 'istory, but the High Queen gave them both such a beatin' that the Giants retreated all the way to 'Arfang." He looked on Natasha with pride and she blushed terribly, avoiding his gaze. "And the Telmarines, well, they didn't come back for a thousand years."

Edmund looked on, bewildered. He stared past Trumpkin, to his once-sister, a similar expression of pride on his features. "Well done," he murmured.

She didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "It wasn't me," she stammered, "I had Oreius and Peter's generals. I was just _there_."

But Trumpkin jabbered on, undeterred. "Some of the bloodiest battles in Narnian 'istory were fought under you, Your Majesty. Why, the Lantern Waste 'as only just begun to mend from the scars of battle."

In her mind's eye, Natasha remembered the wounds of the land, and of the body. She remembered the searing burn of the sword and the arrow in her flesh. More than anything, she remembered the wails of the Dryads when the Telmarines set fire to the forest. With a thousand swan songs, they burned alive, trapped within themselves. It had been a crippling blow, but the Narnians fought on.

"We sowed their farms with salt for spite," she murmured. Her eyes darted to and fro as the scene played before her eyes. "I suppose the famine that drove the Telmarines here was partly my doing." She stared at Edmund and he stared back, watching her memories well up behind her eyes. She should be telling all this to Peter. He deserved to know.

Trumpkin puffed out his chest and straightened to his full height. "Got 'em back, you did. Nothin' wrong with that." Then he grinned and nudged her slightly. "I knew the stories were true. That Caspian better watch 'imself around you, High Queen."

"I think that's enough for now, Trumpkin," she said, her eyes and voice stony. Again, that iron queen resurfaced. "More than enough."

The Dwarf seemed to shrink and looked put out, but he nodded all the same and plodded away after Peter and the girls. Edmund remained, feeling just a bit smaller than he would have liked next to Natasha.

"You need to talk to Peter."

She nodded. "I know, but- oh, Ed, I don't even know where to begin."

"The beginning, of course," he said. "The day we went back."

"But he's so happy now and I know whatever I say will only bring him down again." She swallowed around the lump in her throat.

Edmund tried to smile, "I'm sure he'd be interested to hear about your doings and the battles, at the very least-."

"But that's just it," she choked, her face paling. "It's like a web, see? No matter where I start, I'm going to end up in the middle, at the worst and darkest moment."

He could see she was fighting tears and it cut him deeply to watch her suffer so. "You shouldn't have to bear this alone." But she shook her head.

"He has enough to worry about now." She had cut the emotion from her voice. "I needn't burden him with what's dead and gone."

* * *

**OH SNAP! Read and review!**

**Also, I would like to say that when you guys let me know what your favorite parts of the chapter our, it is just amazing and it really is a great help. Let's me know what I'm doing right and what you guys would like to see more of! So, if you feel so inclined, include what you like and especially what you didn't!**


	6. On The Dark Horizon

**So sorry for the wait, just I had prom, graduation, and a few graduation parties all in the last few days. Just a heads up, I'm going to California tomorrow night and I won't be back until Saturday, so probably no more updates until after then. **

* * *

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**VI**

* * *

Her toes curled at the edge of the ravine, pulling back from the rocky cliff. The Rush charged below, having beaten its way deeper into the earth during the absence of the Narnian kings and queens. She watched Peter with a keen eye; he never liked being wrong, not in the least.

He stood stock still, his eyes frantically searching the cliff edge for any sign of a way down and across. Trumpkin cleared his throat and the king clenched his jaw, steeling himself for the proverbial 'I told you so'. Next to him, Natasha stiffened, readying herself for damage control.

"No crossing," Trumpkin said, echoing his words from before.

Susan looked down as well and wrinkled her nose. "Erosion. After hundreds of years, the river-."

"Oh, shut up," Peter grumbled. His lady couldn't help but smirk.

Thankfully, the Dwarf was intelligent enough to leave it at that and steer the subject away from Peter's mistake. "There's a ford near Beruna." He spoke with hesitancy.

"But?" Natasha prodded, looking over her shoulder at him.

Trumpkin heaved a sigh. "But there's a heavy Telmarine presence at the ford. Bridge-building, I expect."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. _Bridges_. Chaining the rivers so was grounds for treason in her day.

Peter shook his head. "If there's no other way..." He looked back to the gorge, as if a second glance could provide some new insight into the situation. "I'd like to avoid the Telmarines at all costs, at least until we meet up with Caspian."

"It's the only crossing for miles," Trumpkin assured him.

The gorge seemed to smile at them. It wasn't all that wide, but the distance was too far to jump, even for Peter, and the river below foamed and churned like water on the boil. They would have to cross at Trumpkin's ford. There was no other way.

"ASLAN!" Lucy's cheer had them all spinning. She clapped in delight and pointed to the far side of the ravine. "Look, it's Aslan!"

Natasha felt as if her stomach had dropped away in her excitement and she turned with wide, hopeful grin to look at the far bank. She expected to see the familiar shape of a lion across in the trees but there was no gold amongst the green, no gentle paws or tossing mane. What Lucy had seen, _if_ Lucy had seen, was no longer there.

"Are you certain, Lu?" Susan said with the usual amount of skepticism. Trumpkin seemed to share her sentiments.

Lucy continued to stare into the trees. "He wants us to cross, I'm sure of it!"

Trumpkin eyed her warily. "Do you see Him now?"

She pulled a face. "No, He's gone _now_. But He was there."

Peter shifted uncomfortably. He _wanted_ to believe Lucy, but now was not the time to cater to his younger sister's, as well as his own, fancies. It was time for action, not daydreaming. "There's probably a good deal of lions in these woods," he said, nearly unable to meet his sister's eye. "Just- just let that bear."

It pained him to say it to her, but Natasha couldn't help but agree with the High King. Even if Lucy had seen the Lion, He was gone now and it was no use pining over it. She laid a hand on Peter's arm, if only to soothe him a bit. Her head dipped slowly, the slightest of nods. Peter felt the warmth rush back to his hands and face, but ran cold again when he caught sight of Lucy's face. Her features had crumpled, her eyes narrowed against tears of frustration.

"We believe you, Lucy," Natasha murmured, looking between brother and sister. Her heart ached to see them so. "It's just we can't waste anymore time getting to- to Caspian." She said the Telmarine's name with the slightest hint of disdain, an inflection Edmund didn't fail to notice. "If Aslan wants us to cross, why doesn't He tell us so?"

Lucy bit her lip. "He told me."

"I'm sure He did, sweetheart, but I don't see anyway to do so." She continued against her heart's better judgment. "Do you?"

The young girl fell quiet and still. Her gaze faltered and then trailed back to the far side of the gorge. Edmund watched, remorseful. He knew that face.

"You all make valid points," his dark eyes swept through his siblings, Natasha and the Dwarf, "but the last time I didn't listen to Lucy, I ended up looking pretty foolish."

Peter bowed his head. His brother was right, but he would be the last to admit it. "Be that as it may, we need to cross the Rush, and we can't do that here."

They left in silence, with Trumpkin and Susan leading the way. Peter followed, Natasha's hand in his own. Several paces behind were Lucy and Edmund, both of whom looked very pale and put out indeed.

* * *

She had not known an anger so great in many, many years. It boiled in some dark place, deep inside, where not even Peter could reach, where all her memories festered until all their good had been forgotten. It was the place she had retreated to at night, in a chamber meant for two that would never again see its master and king. No matter how many years or worlds had passed, this hole remained to eat at her very core. It was the scar she bore, a scar that would never heal and never fade.

The Telmarines brought her back to the darkness. Strange, in over a thousand years their ways had not changed. Their march was the same; harried and forced, clanging with iron. Still, they were dark-headed and dark-skinned, with intentions to match. Still, their regard for all things Narnian was non-existent. And still, she hated them. For what they were, for what they had done.

"Natasha?" Peter chased the dark away. For now.

She flushed and ducked behind the pile of logs. The sounds of construction, so unfamiliar in Narnia, rose all around. "It's impossible. There's far too many." Indeed. They were like rabbits, dumb rabbits, eager to overpopulate. Reluctantly, she met Lucy's eyes. "There's no way across."

Trumpkin grunted. His form of agreement. "And back we go."

They turned tail as stealthily as they could and stole away from the ford and the Telmarines.

The sword at Natasha's side suddenly felt heavy, as if it were urging to be let loose upon Telmarine throats. She shook her head. Hers were no longer the hands of a skilled warrior queen. She would never dance among the armored, blade flashing in the battle-sun. Never again would she have the hold the hands of the dying, to feel their pulse weaken and watch their eyes close. The latter part she did not relish, not in the least, but it was her duty. As sovereign and as queen, the cross was hers to bear, as it had once been his.

"Peter?"

Her hand found his easily and she pulled him back. Susan turned and hesitated, but Edmund gave her the smallest of shoves and urged the others onward. This had been a long time coming. Peter watched with a furrowed brow before looking back to her, a question on his lips.

"What's wrong?"

She drew a ragged breath. "I have to tell you, and I know you don't want to hear it but I just-," she swallowed and her eyes danced, "I can't lie to you."

"Hey," he whispered, pulling her closer to him. Her body trembled and shivered. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that."

"I do, I do, but what I have to say," again, she trembled, "I don't want to burden you with."

He frowned slightly. "You don't want to tell me?"

She shook her head and met his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you. There's a difference."

His grin was slow. "It's alright, you know. I won't be cross, whatever it is."ar

"But you mustn't let this affect your judgment." Her admonition was stern and he couldn't help but nod in agreement. "Not now or in the future."

He inclined his head. "As you wish, High Queen."

"Where to begin?" she murmured, taking a step back. Her hands dropped to her side and she drew her sword slowly. "I suppose I could start with Aubring." She laid the sword across her palms. In the bright light of day, Peter could see all its scars. He stared, almost dumbfounded, at the oft-used weapon.

"I never seen that sword before."

She bowed her head. "I had it made for the Giant Wars. It took them two years to invade once you were gone."

He was breathless now, the vivid scenes of battle splaying across his mind. But he promised he would not be angry. "And?" was all he could manage.

"And we beat them back, well, I mean Oreius did. I didn't go to Ettinsmoor with him, at least not for the first few months."

"Good."

She flushed but forced herself to continue. "I was at Cair Paravel, nursing an injury. We had just finished with the Telmarines."

"Giants _and_ Telmarines? By the Lion, what happened?"

"Narnia was vulnerable. You were gone and a woman was left to rule. Not exactly threatening to Telmar or the Giants." She allowed herself a small smirk. "They underestimated us though. Narnia may have been vulnerable, but she was not weak."

"No, I guess not." His words were soft and fond. "Was that so hard?"

She heaved a sigh. "Peter, I changed during those years. I fought wars, I _lost_ parts of myself, parts you loved. I had to become someone else to survive, to protect Narnia. I've been trying to hide her away but-."

A kiss was all she needed at that moment, and Peter certainly delivered. They were reluctant to part, but they _were_ in hostile territory after all.

"That's not all that happened," she murmured, her head tucked under his chin. "There's so much to say, so many things I have to tell you."

His voice was soothing as it reverberated in his chest. "And I will hear them all, my love, I promise, but we've tarried here long enough."

She nodded. "Yes, yes, I agree. We've still got to find a way across that gorge."

"What you said before," he said, "about all this affecting my judgment. You meant concerning the Telmarines, right? And Caspian?"

Natasha swallowed and pulled back. Her eyes were dulled and voice blunt. "I think I'll have a more difficult time than you remaining civil. The Telmarines weren't the most noble of men."

He chewed his lip. "Land-hungry," he muttered.

"Amongst other things."

* * *

They caught up with the others at the gorge, where Lucy had discovered, well, fallen into, a way across the Rush. Edmund noticed the growing ease between Peter and Natasha and felt himself relax; she had opened up to him, finally. Peter took the lead again, this direction having been his idea in the first place, and by nightfall they were several miles from the river and deep within the Shuddering Wood. It only remained for them to actually find Caspian, a task not many had dwelled on with the prospect of crossing the river at hand. Now, with the Rush behind them, Peter and Edmund realized they hadn't the foggiest as to where Caspian might be. They would have to rely on Aslan's will to get to the prince.

The sky was cloudy and the stars seemed darkened. "Darkest before dawn," Natasha murmured as she drifted off to sleep. Again, Peter lay at her back, his breath tickling her back. But he was so very warm, like a giant furnace, and the ground seemed to lose its cold.

Dawn was gray and weak as the woods were thick, resistant to sunlight. Lucy stirred at the sound of a snapping branch and sat up. She stared around at the others, all of whom were seemingly asleep. The young girl stood as quietly as she could before scrambling off into thicker woods.

Natasha watched her with slitted eyes before rising herself. Lucy should not be wandering off, for anything. This was not the Narnia she knew.

Next to her, Peter yawned. "I'll get her," he whispered, pushing Natasha back down.

"Take this." She held out Rhindon, and the set of her face told him this was no joke.

He nodded and fastened the belt around himself before sprinting off after Lucy.

Natasha lay back down, intending to sleep a little more, but found she couldn't. Her warmth was gone and the ground seemed to be frozen. It was no use, anyways, for the sound of clanging swords rose out of the trees, waking even the snoring Trumpkin.

Her heart rose in her throat and she hastened in the direction Peter and Lucy had gone. Her sword lay forgotten by the fire.

"Peter!" Lucy screamed, horrified as she watched her brother freeze. Natasha came up behind her and pale at the terrible scene. A man, clearly Telmarine, was attempting to wrench Peter's sword from a tree while Peter himself was poised to bash the fellow's brains out with a rock.

Peter's eyes fell to his sister, than his wife, before stepping back from the Telmarine. He was obviously young, a few years her physical senior. And he had an air of entitlement. _Royalty. _Peter noticed it too.

"Prince Caspian?" he gasped, incredulous. A tongue of anger licked through Natasha, but she fought it.

The young man nodded, his breath coming in pants. Their duel must have been spectacular. "Yes. And who are you?"

As if on cue, Susan, Edmund and Trumpkin ran out of the trees, drawing Caspian's. Now the five were complete. He stared, thunderstruck, at each Pevensie in turn. He hardly dared to glance Natasha's way. Finally he turned back to Peter and gave the slightest of nods.

"High King Peter," he breathed.

Peter set his jaw with the smallest of smirks. "I believe you called."

* * *

**Sorry if there are any errors but I dashed this off quickly so I wouldn't leave everyone hanging. Read and review!**


	7. Know Who Your Friends Are

**So California was amazing - I can't wait to go back. I miss campus already! Thanks for all your support and understanding while I try to balance my crazy life and writing. **

* * *

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**VII**

* * *

He blew the horn in a panic, not knowing who or what the ancient relic might call to. But he didn't dare to hope and in the many days since, his time had been spent amongst the creatures he and his people believed extinct. But Narnia lived on, against all expectations, and had come to him now in hopes of overthrowing the kingdom that was rightfully his. And then They arrived.

They who were legend and myth, they who had galloped through his every daydream and wish. They who stood before him, in the flesh.

Queen Lucy the Valiant. King Edmund the Just. Queen Susan the Gentle. Only the royal pair, the High King and his queen, could wrench Caspian's gaze from the beautiful young woman who stood by her sister. As she was all the legends said, so were Peter the Magnificent and Natasha the Bold. Of the pair, he could not decide who was the more daunting figure. They were young, yes, but he saw fire and iron in their gazes.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, as the expression goes.

"And where does your army make camp?" Natasha said. Her voice was regal, but not cold. However, she did not address him, at least not as a prince should be. Caspian hesitated, still struck by their presence. "You _do_ have an army?"

Edmund cleared his throat. Loudly.

The prince recovered quickly, gathering his thoughts into some semblance of an explanation. "Yes, though I know it may not be up to your standards." He glanced between Peter and Natasha, unsure of who exactly to address. "We make our camp to the west, a few hours' march from here." He pointed through the trees, away from the river.

Peter nodded, satisfied for the moment. "Then we'd better make haste. Right now, our only hope lies in our speed and the element of surprise, and we can't utilize either standing around." Behind him, Edmund surveyed the crowd of creatures that had assembled. Presumably members of Caspian's army.

"I see you've allied with the minotaurs," the young king said.

Susan nodded to her brother, but her gaze strayed to Caspian. "It seems a common enemy unites even the oldest of foes."

For a moment, a smile passed over Caspian's dark features. "Yes, My Lady," was all he could manage before a slight blush tinged his cheeks.

_Just what we need_, Natasha thought with a sigh. She nudged Peter, who only rolled his eyes. He did not have the time, nor the patience, for any _shenanigans_.

"Let's get moving," Peter clipped. He didn't wait for Caspian, who was still staring, or Susan, who willfully returned the prince's gaze. Natasha followed him closely and they walked together through the crowd of Narnians. The creatures bowed, in their own fashion, as they passed. Trufflehunter the Badger dabbed at his eyes.

"To think I'd see the return," he sniffed, "Never in my life."

* * *

The High King and High Queen were a sight, even in their youthful state. Not only to Caspian, who walked a few steps behind them, but even to Edmund, Susan and Lucy. They walked with such determination and strength and their eyes never strayed from the road ahead, not even to each other. Again, their hands found each other. They were silent for the most part, though the occasional whispered conversation passed between them, followed by a backwards glance.

"I don't like him," Peter admitted. She smirked in response.

"I knew it." Then she wrinkled her nose. Her next words were reluctant, forced. "He seems perfectly fine. For a Telmarine."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Oh yes, but fine doesn't exactly bode well for a future king."

"I don't about that. I seem to recall a king who was once just 'fine', if you catch my drift." She glanced back to Caspian. "Kings aren't just born noble and brave. You know that."

"Of course but," he heaved a sighed, "by his age I was-."

"-A warrior and a diplomat, tried and true." Again, she smirked. "You were annexing countries and fighting Giants."

"That makes two of us."

"Hmm." Her smirk faded and her face became thoughtful. "We did so much together. And even more apart." She bit her lip. "Did you ever- I mean, back home, with-?"

His smile was wide and he shook his head. "Never. Not even close."

"Good," she laughed. "I didn't want to have to gut you."

"Like you could," he replied, taking her hand in his own.

She shrugged, "Well, he nearly did," she nodded to Caspian, "from what I saw. I think you're rather rusty, Peter."

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "I had him."

"All I'm saying is it was close." Her smile remained, but her eyes darkened. "Too close."

He chewed his lip. "It's coming back to me. Don't worry." His free hand tightened on his sword, as if he could force his fingers to know their old strength and skill.

"It's my job to worry. You're not Peter the Magnificent. Not yet, at least."

"And what about you?" he said.

She smiled crookedly. "What about me?"

"War's coming. I know you can feel it."

Her smile deepened and she pecked him on the cheek. "It's coming back to me. Don't worry."

* * *

_My will is your command. My spirit is your strength._

_You must be brave in the face of War and Death._

_You must be fierce in battle, strong in court. _

_That long-awaited darkness draws near. Face it._

_Who you were is gone. You are Queen no longer. _

_You are warrior._

_You are sovereign._

_You are King._

* * *

It may have been the walk of a few hours for Caspian, but with High King Peter setting the pace, the long train of Men and Beasts reached the camp before the second hour was spent. The landscape was vaguely familiar and Peter knew exactly what _should_ have been there, but the Table was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a great green hill rose out of the ground, as if some subterranean giant had punched his earthy ceiling. With every passing moment, it grew closer.

"The How," Caspian explained, noting the bewildered faces. "Our fortress, of sorts."

It looked defendable, with a single visible entrance. Satyrs walked to and fro on patrol, while a number of other creatures bustled in and out.

Peter managed to speak first. "It will do." It sounded like a lie.

Edmund understood his brother's hesitation. Peter wasn't used to digging himself into a hole, which was exactly what the How would become. They were backing themselves into a corner and anyone with a brain for battle knew it.

"And how do we plan to defend against catapults?" Natasha said, her lips pursed. She pulled her hand from Peter's and crossed her arms. "You- I mean, the Telmarines- still use catapults?" She wasn't trying to sound condescending, but every word seemed to come out that way, at least where Caspian was concerned.

The Telmarine prince narrowed his eyes. Just as his affection for Susan had grown, so had his distate for the High Queen. "Yes, but I'm sure they've changed since-," he faltered, "-your time."

Was he calling her old? "Nevertheless, I've the most experience fighting Telmarines."

Caspian pulled a face. After all, he was still a Telmarine, and the tales of his people's defeat at her hands still stung. "I would think so."

She glanced at Peter, who was watching her with what could only be called pride. "Our first priority is to strengthen the inner supports of this How, or else we'll soon find ourselves without any place to retreat to. Although," she sighed and raised a finger to her lips, "I've seen many a castle fall to catapults. Sooner or later, the How will succumb as well, no matter how much we try to fortify it."

Edmund, who had always been interested in castles and catapults and siege warfare, nodded in agreement. "We can't hope to win battles hiding in a hill. Even with archers, we're going to need some kind of infantry, calvalry, an ambush maybe-."

"I think it'd be better if we talked about this inside," Susan countered. She gestured to the thinning wood and the openness of the landscape. "We can't hold much of a council out here, can we?"

Her logic was undeniable and Caspian couldn't help but smile at the young queen, despite Peter's obvious disapproval. Natasha, on the other hand, was working very hard not to snap at both of them. Their little show was doing nothing for her nerves and she would like nothing more than to put them both in their place.

"Shall we?" she said, her voice sharper than need be. Peter quickly matched her pace and they moved forward towards the How, their guard in tow.

"You'll have to excuse them," Edmund muttered to Caspian as he passed. "They're not used to sharing the crown with anyone but each other."

Still very out of his element, Caspian could only nod. Susan and Lucy followed quickly after their brothers, and the young prince found he could not wrench his eyes away from the elder queen. She smiled softly at his gaze, but said nothing. Encouraging him was the worst she could do at this point.

They marched into the How together, the four Pevensies and the High Queen, to the sound of horns. Centaur blades arched their path, reflecting the noon sun. It was paltry compared to the welcome they usually enjoyed but still, it was a grand sight. Their pace was even as they fell into step with each other; it was second nature still.

Caspian sighed to himself, his eyes on their backs. Would he ever be a king like Peter or Edmund? Would he wed someone as fierce or beautiful as Natasha or Susan?

No. They were legends, myths. It was useless to compare himself, a lowly prince, to them. After all, they fought for their crowns. He had simply been born to his. When he first met with the Narnians, the welcome had been indifferent, hostile even. But for them, the roaring cheer was deafening, the loyalty evident in every smile and shining eye. Shields shook, swords clanged - the Kings and Queens of Old had returned.

And Caspian followed, stoic and silent. It was not his place to lead.

The paintings on the walls were familiar, of friends and places remembered. There was Susan and Lucy, Mr. Tumnus, the Pevensies being crowned, and even Peter and Natasha's wedding. Peter hesitated by that one, his features torn between happiness and remorse. Next to him, Natasha pressed a hand against the image of herself.

She laughed softly. "They got the color wrong," she murmured, her eyes on her wedding dress. On the wall, it was painted white, while in truth she had worn green.

"What is this place?" Lucy's voice echoed around the stony chamber.

Caspian looked between them, his dark eyes glittering in the torchlight. "You don't know?" he asked. "Follow me."

He led them down a dark passage, with Peter bringing up the rear. It was quiet, with only the sound of their shuffling feet to pierce the darkness. Natasha could sense they had entered a room, as the air wasn't so stuffy and it was much cooler.

"Here," Caspian said, laying his torch down so that it ignited the trough of oil-soaked wood. The flames quickly spread, illuminating the chamber with a flickering red light.

Aslan stared out at them from a carving, set between two rough pillars, but his empty eyes were not so haunting as what lay in the center of the room: a slab of stone, broken down the middle as if it had been struck by lightning. They knew what it was without a word: the Stone Table.

Lucy stepped forward, hesitating before she laid her hand on the crack. She remembered all too clearly what had come to pass there, what Dark Magic and Deeper Magic the Table had seen. "Oh, Aslan," she said, staring towards the Lion's stony likeness, "He must know what he's doing," she added, glancing over her shoulder.

Peter was not so naive. He took Natasha's hand, but it did not calm him. "I think it's up to us now."

* * *

The scout's news was far from what he wanted to hear. The Telmarines were close.

"It's only a matter of time," Peter muttered, pacing up and down before the Table. He had assembled a court there, making sure to include an emissary from each species, as well as Caspian, Natasha and his siblings. Lucy sat, perched on the table, while Edmund and Natasha stood close by, watching Peter closely. Susan sat against the wall, closer to Caspian than many would have liked.

Reepicheep, ever the brave one, spoke first. "What do you propose, Sire?" he asked, not without a bow and a swordly flourish.

Peter and Caspian spoke in unison.

"Strike Miraz while we can-."

"Build up our defenses-."

Natasha was taken aback, but not more so than Peter, who rounded on Caspian, but said nothing. Instead, he waited for Caspian to remember his place. The prince did, after a tense moment, and lowered his eyes.

"We always have the element of surprise," Natasha said, hoping to draw attention away from Caspian's small blunder. It was the least she could do, in light of her frosty disposition.

Peter nodded. "His army is here, waiting." His voice, and resolve, grew stronger. "Not guarding the castle."

But Caspian could not hold his tongue. "That's ludicrous, no one's ever taken that castle-!"

"There's always a first time," Peter replied, his swagger returning. However, his reasoning didn't exactly hold water, a fact his wife knew well enough.

"Don't you know the ins-and-outs of that castle?" Natasha piped in. She moved to stand next to Peter, to display a united front. "Afterall, weren't you raised to defend it?"

Caspian nodded, but was not convinced, as evident in his exasperated sigh. "But we have the advantage here!" But his voice wavered. How could he argue with them? Clearly they had not ears for any opinion but their own.

"Look," Peter said, his voice softening into a tone better fitted for children. "I _appreciate_ what you've done here-."

His tone stung more than his words. "Don't patronize me," Caspian spat, his words dripping venom. It was the equivalent of slapping the High King across the face.

"Your Highness-," Trufflehunter scolded, but Peter waved it away. He glared at Caspian in an attempt to burn away his anger but this time the prince would not back down. Natasha laid a hand on Peter's arm, in case he lost his temper. Behind Caspian, Susan looked ready to do the same.

"I would like a private audience with the Prince," he muttered.

The room cleared in record time, leaving only the six humans. The staring contest between Peter and Caspian continued, a silent battle of wills.

"That's enough," Susan snapped, stepping between Caspian and her brother.

Lucy looked disgusted by the entire show. "Indeed."

"No," Caspian hissed, still livid. "I am a prince and I deserve the respect-."

"Deserve?" Natasha heard herself scoff. "You Telmarines deserve very little of anything, much less respect."

"Natasha, stop it!" Susan said.

But the High Queen was not so easily silenced. "We come here, to help _you_, and this is how we are repaid? A prince, what you claim to be, should know better."

"Don't turn your own prejudices on Caspian. It's not like Telmarines are born evil." Usually, Edmund's insight and level-head helped end arguments such as these. This was the exception.

"No, they're just more inclined to it."

Edmund tried, he really did. "Tasha, please, don't turn this into another one of your vendettas-."

"Watch it," Peter growled. He would not allow her to face attack from all sides.

"And what about you, _Your Majesty_?" Caspian sneered. "If I recall my history lessons correctly, it was you who destroyed the farms of Telmar, plunging us into the famine that forced us here in the first place!"

Peter opened his mouth, but Natasha silenced him with a wave of her hand. She drew herself up to her full height and clenched her jaw. "Don't you dare lecture me on the past, _boy_, or I'll regale you with stories of your people that would make even Miraz cringe." Every word was sharp, meant to bite, and they did.

"That's enough," Lucy said, stepping down from the Table. Her voice was strangely imposing. "We'll never be able to conquer Miraz if we keep fighting like this."

Natasha would never admit it, but Lucy was right. Silence was her best apology and she fell quiet, content to stare down Caspian. Angry as he was, Peter realized he would have to play the part of mediator between the two. For now, anyways.

"As High King, my decision is final." His voice rang through the chamber, strong and resonant. "We strike first, at the castle." He turned to Caspian, and spoke his next words against his will. "Again, I appreciate your work here, but we have much more experience in war."

Caspian could only nod. He felt as if his tongue had been glued down.

"If you have a problem with my decisions, come to me privately."

Natasha couldn't resist the urge to drive one last blow home. "Don't you ever do that again."


	8. Into A Quiet Word

**Okay, so last chapter...Natasha and Peter kind of went off. A LOT. And yes, they were total asses. And what's more, they both know it. Ah, teenagers. **

* * *

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**VIII**

* * *

Despite the great host milling about the lower levels and earthen corridors, the High Queen found it easy to slip away to someplace quiet. An outcropping of rock, near the summit of the How, became a makeshift sanctuary. It overlooked the field and part of the forest, what would become a battleground in a few days time. She drew her knees to her chest to protect against the cold evening breeze. Night was coming on, but she didn't want to go back in. Not yet.

Her anger had melted into shame and, bold as she was, Natasha couldn't find the heart to face Caspian so soon after their quarrel.

"Peter's been looking for you," a small voice said.

Natasha didn't need to turn to know who it was. Lucy had found her.

"It's all been planned," she continued, "the raid on the castle."

Under most circumstances, Natasha would be livid, disgruntled in the very least, that plans had been drawn up without her. "Oh."

"You put on quite a show," the young queen added, taking a seat next to her. "Caspian couldn't even handle Peter, let alone you."

"I feel wretched for it," Natasha whispered, covering her face with a hand. "He's done nothing but help and I attacked him!"

Lucy nodded. "You had your reasons, I'm sure." But she didn't sound convinced.

"Me and my silly prejudices." The High Queen looked up, towards the forest. Lucy followed her gaze and understood; somewhere out there, the Telmarine army lay in wait for them.

"Edmund said you fought them, long ago."

Natasha pursed her lips. "Yes. They weren't the only ones."

"Giants, he told me. But then I don't see you bothering Wimbleweather like you do Caspian." Lucy perceived more than the others, even Edmund. Her insight took Natasha aback. "Something happened, something besides war, to make you hate the Telmarines."

It was no use to deny it, even to one so small as Lucy. "Yes," Natasha said. It almost pained her to speak.

"You don't have to tell me-," but she caught Lucy by the wrist, silencing her. Her eyes were no longer dry. "-but you can, if it would help."

"I should be telling this to Peter but," Natasha faltered. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "After what happened earlier, I don't think he would be able to keep a level head. I've had years to numb the pain and, well, I don't want to spring this on him. Not now."

Lucy felt herself pale. Though she had lived life as an adult, she was a child now and some things were once again beyond her understanding. What she did know was that Natasha had a point; Peter needed his wits about him. He couldn't afford to be swept into a rage. "I'm all ears," Lucy whispered, sounding much more mature than she felt.

Natasha was quiet for a long minute, collecting herself. Everytime she opened her mouth, willing herself to speak, she could only draw a ragged breath. Finally, staring at the first star of the evening, she found her words.

"I didn't know it then but, when you went back, when you left Narnia," she stuttered, her voice broken, "I was pregnant."

* * *

_The braids were tight, pulling her hair back severely. She liked it that way; the constant pull was a reminder of the dire circumstances, if the war camp and the tramp of soldiers didn't do the trick. Her body ached, but she urged her Horse forward. The tent was near and so was much-needed sleep. _

_Evening fast approached and the shadows were long when she dismounted. Ierfin didn't need a groom to lead him away; he was a Horse, after all, and proud to serve his queen. She was an excellent horsewomen, matched by none, and any steed, Horse or horse, would gladly carry her into battle. He neighed his good-bye, which she answered with a wave. Her exhaustion was understandable - it had been a very long day._

_She would have collapsed on her bed, had there not been a lion standing in her way._

_"Aslan." It was not a question. _

_He inclined his head slightly. "High Queen." Their greeting was frosty at best, on both ends. Peter's absence still stung._

_"I suppose you're going to tell me to return home." She laid a hand on her stomach in an almost defensive manner. The bulge was barely noticeable through the chainmail. "For the baby."_

_The lion pawed the ground. "I was surprised by your decision." _

_"_You must be brave in the face of War and Death." _She quoted their last meeting. "Isn't that what you said?"_

_His chuckle was low. "I hardly expect you listen to me anymore."_

_"If I didn't have to be here, I wouldn't." Her voice was so hard, her words seemed to be forged of iron._

_His gaze softened into something forlorn, regretful. She could not know the future, not as he did. "No. You're exactly where you're supposed to be." _

_Angry though she was, his words were still a comfort. She had made the right decision. "Thank you." It was a stiff thanks, but grateful all the same. __Again, he pawed the ground. She noted the fidgeting; it was unusual for him. "I'm sorry, you must have other things to attend to."_

_He didn't reply, satisfied instead to look on her. His golden eyes were so sad, she nearly embraced him. It would have felt so good to tangle her hands in his mane, as she had in younger, happier years. But that would mean forgiveness, acceptance even, of his actions. He had taken Peter from her, and she would never forget that. _

_"I know you blame me." _

_She didn't deny it._

_"One day-."_

_"-I'll understand?" A deaf man could hear her bitterness._

_"One day you'll find it in your heart to forgive me." _

_It was her turn to fall quiet._

_"I know you don't think you can, but you will." The lion turned his head, his mane twinkling in the candlelight. "I am sorry, Daughter, for everything that has and will cause you pain."_

_Even Aslan couldn't forsee what she said next. "It's a boy. I can feel it." _

_He bowed his head, unable to meet her gaze. For a split second, she smiled as she touched her stomach. "I guess I'm allowed some small consolation."_

_"Goodbye, Daughter." His voice was thick, almost choked. It frightened her._

_"Goodbye, Aslan."_

* * *

Deep within the How, another queen was busy calming someone else. Caspian paced before Susan, his face bright red, his usually cool demeanor gone.

"I don't understand it," he muttered. "All I've done is help them."

She frowned, "Logically, it's not hard to figure this out." Her tone was neutral; she wasn't interested in picking sides. "If they weren't ruling with each other, they did it alone, and no one challenged them, not like you just did. They simply don't know how to react to something like that."

"But the stories," he came to a halt, his eyes downcast, "Everything Dr. Cornelius told me. I didn't think they - you - would be so-."

"-Real?" She laughed quietly. "More than you know."

Caspian nodded, now watching her face. Her presence was calming. "Susan the Gentle," he murmured. She shifted uncomfortably under his state. His accent seemed to thicken. "It fits you perfectly."

A subject change was in order. "And Peter?" Her voice sounded very high.

"Still magnificent but," he shrugged, "tempermental."

They both chuckled heartily until an easy silence settled. Here, inside the How with war brewing, Susan felt strangely comfortable. She chalked it up to the Narnian air, to her old self returning, but really, she knew the reason: Caspian. Again, he was staring at her and she found she didn't mind in the least.

* * *

Lucy had never felt so wretched or so helpless. This was wound even her cordial could not heal. The young girl couldn't help but cry softly. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's past," Natasha murmured, rising to her feet. Her eyes were oddly dry. "I don't want you to-," she sighed and glanced sidelong at Lucy. Every teardrop was acid on her heart. "Please don't cry, Lucy."

The little queen nodded, trying to hide her sniffles. She stood slowly; her limbs felt foreign and shaky. Seeing her that way, so lost, was another stab to Natasha's heart. All she could do was wrap the small girl in a hug, holding her until the tears subsided. Their embrace was quick but it served its purpose; both drew back somewhat comforted. And Natasha perceived - there was no going back now. Lucy knew and that was enough. There was that old, familiar pity in her eyes and it made her sick with anger and memory.

Lucy sensed her unease. "Don't worry. I won't tell."

Natasha offered her a wry smile. "I know, dearest."

* * *

In the chamber of the Stone Table, Peter and Edmund sat alone. The plans were drawn, the board set. Now it only remained to wait for the cover of night - and no Pevensie was ever very good at waiting. Even Edmund, the most patient and level-headed, found himself fidgeting in the torchlight. Something about being underground, he decided. The air was too damp and closed for his liking, making him anxious. But really, he knew. The flashlight in his hand was cold, a reminder of what was to come. He would be the first that night, the first to drop from the sky. If he shut his eyes, he could imagine, if everything went to plan, what would happen.

The castle, weakened by the army's absence, would fall. Miraz would surrender. Narnia prevails. With luck, of course. Lots and lots of luck.

"It's a good plan," he muttered. _The best we could do,_ his mind added. "As long as everyone plays their part."

"And why wouldn't they?"

"Well," Edmund had to be careful here, "you have your ... distractions." Peter clenched his jaw, but not in anger. His brother was referring to Natasha, who be accompanying them tonight, _against_ his wishes. "As does Caspian."

He looked up quickly, his eyes narrowed. "You don't mean Susan?"

Edmund shrugged. "He's quite fond of her, as I'm sure you've noticed."

Peter groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've tried not to."

"And then there's his temperment to take into account. The prince is quite unpredictable."

"Quite," Peter agreed. "But he'll stick to the plan." His expression softened. "For her sake, at least."

"He'd better, or we'll really be in it." Edmund leaned back against the Table, his weight on his elbows. His face was thoughful. "I think I like him." Peter couldn't help but scoff. "Don't let your own feelings affect you, Pete," he added in a disparaging tone. "Things nearly got out of hand before."

"That wasn't _my_ fault! She was the one who-."

"-Yes, but you _let_ her." Edmund was stern. They were two kings now, not brothers. "I know she's your, well I suppose she's still your wife, and you love her and all that, but she does let herself get carried away."

Peter rolled his eyes, "She was just a bit defensive, that's all. After all," he added, crossing his arms and looking rather smug, "he was attacking her king and husband."

"You're mad if you believe that. She just hates Telmarines, there's no way around it."

Peter smirked. "Well, then it's a good thing they're our enemies."

"But where does that leave Caspian? Where is the line drawn?"

"Ask her!" Peter said, gesturing towards the door. "She's perfectly capable of answering you herself."

But Edmund shook his head. "I know she is, but, Pete you know her. She's stubborn and sometimes there's no reasoning with her." He paused, wary of Peter's reaction. It was, after all, a rather sore subject. But Peter simply nodded, allowing him to continue. "But still, she listens to you, even if you don't think she does. Just, just let her know that she can't discriminate against Caspian because of his people."

He saw his brother's point. "Yeah, yeah, I'll tell her. But I can't promise anything."

Edmund smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You'll do well to remember that too."

* * *

After an afternoon of exploring, Natasha came to know the general lay of the How. It's passages went deep underground, down and outwards even, spreading like an earthen web. She wasn't trying to avoid Peter, not consciously, but she found herself attracted to the less trafficked corridors and chambers.

Having gathered her strength, she entered the main entry to find it converted into a forge and gathering hall alike. Dwarves set to mending ancient armor and weapons while the Centaurs drilled some of the smaller Beasts. Reepicheep held court among the Mice, explaining the finer details of their part in the raid. And Trufflehunter, good Trufflehunter, waddled up to her, his manner shy.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," he said, sweeping into a bow.

Despite the darker moments of the day, she smiled. "Please, Trufflehunter," she said, motioning for him to rise. "Have you seen the High King?"

The Badger nodded, happy to help. "At the Stone Table, with His Highness, King Edmund."

"Thank you, Trufflehunter," she said, turning to go, but a furry paw on her arm slowed her. She turned back, plastering on a winning smile. "Yes?"

"If I may be so bold, Your Majesty," the Badger muttered, looking both nervous and shy as he wrung his paws. He glanced over his shoulder before lowering his voice. "He's a good lad." Natasha raised an eyebrow, confused. "The prince."

It took her a moment to respond, but her smile never faded. "Of course he is, why-?"

"I found him in the woods, after he ran away from the Telmarines, and I brought him to the Old Narnians." He was pacing now, his steps slow and short. "If you could have heard him then, in a grove of Beasts so fantastic he never dreamed they still existed, well, Your Majesty, you might understand then."

"Understand what exactly?" It took all her strength to keep composed and decidedly neutral.

"He means no harm to Narnia. He wishes to see her restored. The High King might not trust him yet, but," he heaved a sigh before looking up, hopeful, "if you would parlay that to him, perhaps it will help things along between the two of them."

She squared her shoulder. "Ah." He came to plead Caspian's case, so that she could plead it to Peter. "Of- of course, I'll convey your sentiments, Trufflehunter. And Caspian's."

Again, Trufflehunter bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty." Then he smiled the best a Badger can, showing tiny white teeth. "I never," he sniffed, resisting the urge to dab at his eyes. "I never thought I'd live to see the day."

Her smile was slow, but genuine. "Neither did I."

* * *

**Lots and lots of talking, but I INCLUDED EVERYONE. WOO. TALENT...yeah, sure. All reviews welcome, but meaty reviews are loved! **

**Ugh, I hated having Natasha and Peter tag-team on Caspian last chapter, it was so unfair, but totally with their characters. However I am extremely excited for the post-raid fight - 'twas my favorite part of the film. Also, there's some more flashbacks on the horizon akin to the one above. They're so great to write, I can get really into them. Finally, I will tone down the angst as best I can but it's to be expected with the circumstances, as I'm sure most of you have figured by now. **

**P.S. I'm going to the Cape (beach) until Saturday/Sundayish so unfortunately no updates 'till at least then. **

**P.P.S. My friend just started up a Harry Potter RP site that's great and I will be active on. If you're interest, PM for the link! Serious writers wanted!**

**REVIEW PEEPS!**


	9. No One Knows Yet

**Ahem. This took much longer than it should have and I apologize to each and every one of you for the long, long wait. Hopefully you can find it in your hearts to forgive a writer whose muse is an awful wench.**

* * *

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**IX**

* * *

The Stone Table neared. Natasha could feel it in her bones. It was a very magical place after all, even before the White Witch spilled innocent blood across the ancient runes. Something inside her hummed, calming her, pushing back her conversation with Lucy and even older, more painful memories. They couldn't bother her now, she need her mind here and now, especially with the raid. _The raid!_

Her feet were swift, carrying her through the earthen arch to the How's heart: the Table. Edmund and Peter sat, seemingly idle and oddly quiet.

"We'll need Caspian to explain the castle," she began, leaping headfirst into her own plans. "Its strengths, weaknesses, points of entrance, Miraz' bedchamber, how many guards we should expect-," she faltered, catching sight of Peter's face. He bit his lip, unable to hide his guilt. Edmund averted his eyes and twiddled his thumbs. "Gone ahead without me, I see."

He blushed slightly and shrugged. "You were…off," he scratched his head, "Walking or wherever."

Eyes narrowed, she crossed her arms. "Well, Peter Pevensie, the next time you go on a nice calming stroll I'll make sure to draw up some wildly important battle plans without _your_ input."

"Like hell you would! Besides it – it wasn't just me! Ed and Caspian-!"

"Don't bring me into this!" Edmund piped in, jumping to his feet.

Natasha's eyes flashed. "_Caspian_! You took Caspian's word over-," she sputtered, struggling to regain her composure. All thoughts of her talk with Lucy were quickly forgotten. "You know, I really don't appreciate this, Peter. _And_ Edmund."

"But you just said we'd need Caspian to plan this," Edmund pointed out. He tried to keep his cool head, but the strain of the day was getting to him. "You're just angry we planned this without your help."

"That's- that's completely wrong! As you both know I've done my share of fighting Telmarines and as such, I have information and strategies that will be very helpful when fighting them!"

Peter flushed at the mention of fighting Telmarines and rose to his feet as well. "Tasha, we're not saying you-."

"And _as you know_," Edmund cut in, "Peter and I have a few, oh you know," he gestured with a hand, his sarcasm doubling as he did so, "battles, wars, military campaigns, _raids_ between the two of us."

"Against Giants. Calormenes. Islanders. Very different from Telmarines." Natasha snapped, hands on her hips.

Peter moved between his wife and his steadily flushing brother. "Be that as it may, we've got a good plan, a solid plan and with a little luck-."

Again, he was interrupted as Edmund lost his head a bit, scowling at Natasha. "Just because you chopped off a few heads back in the day doesn't mean you're better than anyone! You're not a King you know!"

She stopped short her quick reply as the words sunk in. She took a step back, her eyes dark and downcast. Edmund paled and bit his lip. He was in it now.

"Ed!" Peter thundered, rounding on his brother.

But Natasha stopped him. "No, Peter, he's right." She pulled him back. "He's _right_."

Peter glared at his younger brother, eyes aflame. He could have easily broken Natasha's grip on his arm but did not, settling instead to just stand there, silently commanding an apology. Over his shoulder, Natasha glanced at Edmund.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, but she proudly kept his gaze. "And I'm sure your plan is wonderful." She sighed softly, a small smile playing across her features. "You always had a knack for those things."

Edmund smirked to himself and scuffed his toe in the dirt. "Well, not too wonderful. There are a few holes."

She quirked an eyebrow and laughed softly, slowly letting go of Peter. "Perhaps I can help?"

Peter nodded, catching her hand in his. "We had some trouble thinking through an escape."

She laughed again, this time louder. "Just a _few_ holes, you said?"

* * *

The familiar stars of Narnia winked to life in the darkening sky, a firm but calm reminder of this land. They had not changed, at least, even if everything else had. _So much had changed, _Lucy thought, eyes glassy as she stared out at the open field. A mist rose, crawling from the woods to settle on the grass, surrounding the How in ghostly white. The trees shivered in the wind and if she squinted, Lucy could almost pretend they were alive again, dancing round beneath the stars.

"Lu?" a familiar voice said. Edmund. "Lu, Su's been looking for you!" He stepped out of the warmly lit corridor onto the outcropping. "Come on, you shouldn't be out here. Miraz might have scouts, archers, you could catch a cold-," he pulled her to her feet and stopped short, eyes falling on the dried tears still marring her cheeks. "Lucy?"

She flinched and went to wipe them away. "It's nothing."

"We're going to be fine, I promise. Pete and I have worked everything out and-."

"I know _that_," she muttered, looking down at her shoes.

Edmund furrowed his brow, perturbed. "Lu, the last time you cried like that it was over _Aslan_. What's up?"

"Nothing," she hissed, stepping around him back into the How.

He caught her by the back of the shirt and gently pulled her back to face him. The cogs turned furiously in his mind. "You weren't up here alone." She didn't reply but she didn't need to; he could see the answer in her eyes. "What did she say?"

Lucy set her jaw, her childlike petulance returning. "Who?"

"You know," Edmund shot back, "Natasha."

To Lucy's credit, she did as she promised. "I can't tell you."

"Well the next time you two get together for secret-sharing, could you please point her in Peter's direction?" he snapped, throwing up his arms in exasperation. "He's the one she should be talking to, not you _or_ me."

But Lucy shook her head. "Oh, Ed, she would if she could but," she stumbled on her words, tears pricking her eyes again. "It would _kill_ him." She heaved a sigh, looking away again. "It's killing her."

"I'm sure Pete'll be fine with it, whatever happened-."

"Really, Edmund," Lucy said sharply, "If she tells him now, we might as well go surrender to Miraz because Peter the Magnificent will no longer exist."

* * *

"So griffins will fly Edmund in first with the flashlight, then you three," Natasha muttered, going over every facet of the plan. "I expect the aerial bombardment was Edmund's idea?"

Peter smirked, nodding. He looked down on her, watching as she murmured to herself, brow creasing, biting her lip every now and then. When Caspian had finally returned and apologized, pushed on by Susan no doubt, he drew a crude map of the castle on a piece of parchment, marking the gate, the towers and whatever else might be useful to the attack. Natasha ran her fingers along it now, tracing the path Peter would take from the battlements to Miraz's bedchamber and then to the courtyard beyond.

"And after you've captured Miraz?" she said, tapping a finger to her chin.

"Use him as leverage, of course. Negotiate surrender."

Her eyes darkened. "And if they won't negotiate?"

"They will."

She sighed aloud. "Peter," she hesitated, searching for the words. "If they call your bluff-."

"It's not a bluff!" he snapped, rising to his feet. Natasha stared up at him, unamused by his display. She merely clucked her tongue and bent over the map again.

"So you'll kill him if you have to?"

"You act like I've never done it before."

"You and I both know that was a different time. We weren't _children_ then."

He set his jaw and straightened, trying to look dignified. "We're not children _now_," he said. "I'll do what needs to be done."

Nodding slowly, she rose to her own feet. Her eyes, usually so bright, seemed dull and stormy as she surveyed him. He was so different and yet, in his resolute gaze, he was every inch the king she remembered. "I know," she murmured, barely a whisper. "I believe in you, Peter. You'll do what's right - you always do. I just-," she faltered, biting her lip, "I just want you to know what you're getting into."

His gaze softened and he took her hand, gripping it tightly. "I do."

"What could happen," she continued, forcing herself not to look at him. She didn't want to see his eyes as all the possibilities of the raid flashed in his mind. "To all of us."

"Don't talk like that," he growled, pulling her close without hesitation. "I have every faith in you and Susan - even Caspian." Then he paused, a low chuckle shaking through him. "Though if it came down to it, I'd much rather have Reepicheep at my back than any of you lot."

In spite of herself, she smiled and pulled back to face him. He kept his arms around her, reluctant to let her go. "You politely forgot to mention where I am during all of this."

"Ah." His expression darkened minutely just as his hold on her tightened. She stared up at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. "With the cavalry."

Natasha's eyes lit up and she smiled toothily, pleased with her position. She was, after all, the most skilled equestrian in the bunch, not to mention a cavalry general in her own right. Not that Peter knew any of that. "And Glenstorm, I'm guessing?"

He nodded, narrowing his eyes at her jubilant reaction. "Yes," he said, suspicious. "Why so excited?"

"It's just," she stuttered, suddenly at a loss, "well, you know how I am with riding and all that."

But Peter was not so easily thrown off the scent. "And?"

"And...," she trailed off, thinking quickly. _Why not?_ "And during the wars, after- after you left, that's where I was of most use. I led the cavalry. Centaurs, Horses and Great Cats mostly," she added, rambling now. "Never led a Minotaur though, that should be fun."

Peter blinked quickly, dazed and caught wholly off-guard. "You commanded the cavalry?" he stammered. He looked her up and down, not believing that the slight teenager before him could have done such a thing. Even the woman he remembered, though taller and more skilled, didn't fit the bill.

"Why so surprised?" she laughed, stepping back from him. "You know I could."

Indeed, there were very many things Peter believed Natasha couldn't do, but that didn't mean he wanted her doing them. "Of course but-," he cut himself off, not wanting to put his foot in his mouth like he had many, many times before. "I just can't picture it."

"Well, I had very heavy armor."

"Which you're going to have again, that's for damn sure."

"And I rode Ierfin for the most part. He was the charger, almost as big as a Clydesdale-."

"I remember."

"-with the star on his- oh, right. I rode him until," she stumbled, her breath catching as she remembered. "Until he died at the Battle of Lantern Waste." Her voice trailed off into a whisper and her eyes glassed over. _Lantern Waste_.

* * *

_Pain. _

_She'd been hurt before, but never like this. It seared through her, curling around her bones like fire around wood. Everything seemed loud and quiet at the same time; she could hear nothing but her own screams of agony. She clawed the earth, tearing at the ground, as if she could burrow away from the hurt working its way through her. Her sword lay forgotten, stained with dirt and blood. Some of it was her own._

_Smoke darkened the midday sky, spiraling towards heaven. The sharp smell of fire broke through, stinging her throat. Ash began to fall like snow, covering the ground. And then, worst of all, the screaming of the dryads as they burned alive. _

_She screamed with them.

* * *

_

"Natasha?" Peter asked, concern etched across his face. He'd never seen her like this, so shaken and out of sorts.

She blinked and the sights and sounds of that day vanished. "Sorry. I was- very attached to him."

"I'm sure," he nodded, understanding. After all, he'd been married to her; he knew better than any how much Natasha loved her Horses. "Shall we go over this some more?" He gestured back to Caspian's map, forgotten on the ground.

She forced herself to nod. Anything to make the memories go away.

* * *

**I'm really, really amazed at how easy and natural it was to slip right back into the characters. Also, I apologize for the length, I know it's shorter than usual, but I owe you guys this times like a thousand, so I wanted to get you what I had. **

**And, if you can find it in your hearts to love me again, reviews are most welcome.**

**p.s. if there are any Harry Potter fans among you, I finally caved and started up an HP fic. Thanks a lot Cedric Diggory. **


	10. A Battle Cry

**Thanks so much for all your feedback, it really helps!**

**January: A big big thanks to WhyBother101**** for one of the longest reviews I've ever received - and most honest. I will say that I've been watching a lot of Band of Brothers (a stunning HBO mini-series about the men of Easy Company during WWII), so that's where a lot of the dialogue is coming from.**

**June: Yeah, I wrote the first few paragraphs of this chapter six months ago. Yeesh. A lot's happened. Another year of college down and I've actually written a feature length screenplay (two words: Zombie Western). Now that I'm home for a few weeks before going back to LA, I've got some down time, so I figured I might as well do right by you guys and try to finish this.**

* * *

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**X**

* * *

The dark felt heavy, a lead curtain drawn across the land. Her Horse Ronan pawed the ground and snorted, eager to join the fray. Natasha patted him softly, stilling him, while simultaneously agreeing. She would feel much better once Peter was in sight again, even if it meant charging into battle. The rest of the army, hidden in the eaves of the forest, silently echoed their sentiments. The Minotaurs in particular looked positively murderous, their eyes narrowed and axes raised.

Wings beat almost noiselessly overhead. The griffins, hidden by darkness, passed by with their precious cargo. She could just see gentle starlight glinting off their armor as they flew towards the castle, battle angels ready to drop from the sky. Her heart beat wildly in her chest; there was no stopping it now. The raid had begun.

She knew the plan backwards and forwards. Edmund would drop first, onto the high tower, then Peter, Susan and Caspian would infiltrate the castle.

Now all they could do was wait.

She strained her eyes against the night, squinting at what she believed to be the tower. And then, like a star on the parapet, Edmund's flashlight blinked to life, signaling the others. Natasha allowed herself a smile. So far, so good.

Peter, Susan and Caspian would soon follow the signal, landing on the high battlements under the cover of darkness. Whatever guards they met, few according to Caspian, would be dispatched quickly and quietly. And then, they would infiltrate the castle itself and, if their luck held, take Miraz prisoner. Trumpkin, Reepicheep and the Mice would raise the gate, allowing the waiting army to take the castle and the king without ever raising their swords.

"Aslan be with us," Natasha couldn't help but murmur as she met Glenstorm's steady gaze. They exchanged nods.

As one, the army moved quietly forward, slinking out of the trees and towards the high walls of the Telmarine town. There would be no going back now.

* * *

Long, painful minutes passed. No signal from Edmund, no sound from the castle.

Natasha rain a hand through her braided hair, teeth clenched. Too much time had gone by. Something was wrong. Her vision swam for a moment as a thousand terrible thoughts ran through her head, each one worse than the last. Peter trapped. Peter wounded. Peter dead. That, she knew, would be too much to bare, even after a life of hardship and regret. It would be a wound she could never recover from.

Unlike before, when she felt darkness closing in, anger and pain searing her every nerve, there would be no promise of Peter to pull her through. There would be nothing left to keep her on this earth.

"Have courage, my lady," Ronan whispered horsily, turning his long neck to look at her. He could feel her unease.

She barely nodded, eyes still on the signal tower. Courage was the least of her problems now.

The creak of wood and clink of chain drew her eyes from the tower. The drawbridge!

From her position, flattened into an alleyway with the rest of the army, she and Glenstorm could just see the stone causeway leading up to the castle. And at its far end, the dark wood drawbridge yawning open.

"We've missed the signal!" she whispered, gathering the reins, ready to ride out into the street.

But Glenstorm shook his head. His grip tightened on his long claymore as he continued to stare unblinkingly at Edmund's tower. "No. Not yet."

"Glenstorm, we must-!"

The echo of Telmarine battle cries silenced the High Queen. Her blood ran cold and her eyes, wide and frightened, begged the Centaur to listen. But still, he stood resolute, hooves firmly planted on the cobbled stone.

Natasha drew in a ragged breath and drew her sword slowly. It rasped against the sheath and the sound brought her a strange comfort. She held her fate in her own hands once again.

The army murmured as one, eager to charge, but Glenstorm held them steady, still waiting for Edmund.

Natasha barely saw the flashlight blaze to life, wasting no time kicking her horse into a gallop. She and the Narnians exploded into the street, charging forward at breakneck speed. With Glenstorm on her right and the Minotaur on her left, Natasha felt an old strength pulse through her. Luck or no luck, live or die, she was High Queen and _this_ was her kingdom.

Iron screamed as the Minotaur ripped through the meager outer gate, leading the cavalry charge. He made quick work of the two guards, tossing them into the chasm surrounding the castle. The army cheered with new fire, stampeding over the drawbridge and through the still rising inner gate.

Natasha yelled with the best of them, neck and neck with Glenstorm as they galloped into the stone courtyard, Great Cats on their heels. But within the castle was a fearful sight. Torches everywhere - their cover gone. Telmarine guards and soldiers alike pouring out from the walls and the castle itself, each one armed to the teeth. And where were Peter and Susan? Had they failed?

"FOR NARNIA!" a blissfully familiar voice roared.

She whirled in her seat, only to see Rhindon blazing in the starlight, held aloft by Peter. Susan and Caspian flanked him, charging as one into the fray. Natasha almost forgot herself, watching what seemed like an distant memory spark to life. Peter the Magnificent rises again.

But the cry of battle could not be ignored and she too held her sword high, echoing Peter's call. "FOR NARNIA!" she cheered, riding towards the approaching Telmarines with her old skill.

Glenstorm and his centaurs knocked down soldiers like they were bowling pins, while Susan picked off a good many with her deadly aim. Caspian fought with a long sword, his footwork impeccable as he danced through what were once his own men, perhaps even friends. But Peter's blade work was a thing of beauty, finding the weak points in the famed Telmarine army, moving through them as if they were wooden dummies.

Natasha kept close to him, weaving in and out of the Telmarines, raining slashes and strokes from above. She remembered them well. _Where the neck meets the shoulder. _She brought her sword crashing down, splintering armor and bones. _Beneath the arm_. She jabbed, drawing blood as they sank to the ground. _Mind your feet._ With one hand, she guided Ronan through the bodily obstacles of the courtyard, as well as the good many spears, swords and arrows that came their way. They circled the courtyard, felling Telmarines with each pass, not bothering to watch the Narnian Beasts as they scaled the sides of the castle, working up to battlements crawling with soldiers.

She parried a blow from a bear-like Telmarine, dropping the reins to use two hands. He grinned in her face, showing rotten teeth and a cruel disposition. Struggling against him, she nudged Ronan with her foot, a silent command. The Horse reared without warning and then cracking down again, combining his own strength with Natasha's as she brought the blade down, shattering the Telmarine's ugly sword and shoulder.

"Not bad, you," she panted, patting Ronan's neck. He whinnied in response before charging at another soldier, his hooves sending sparks up on the stone.

As they hurtled forward, something caught Natasha's eye: Susan, standing still in the middle of battle. Staring upwards. Natasha followed her gaze and felt her heart nearly stop.

Telmarines. And crossbows.

In her belly, a wound that no longer existed seemed to burn with both pain and memory. The Arrows of Telmar had taken so much from her.

She set her jaw. "They will not do so again."

Lightning quick, she loosed a dagger from her belt and let it flight, singeing the air. A crossbowman toppled forward, his skull cracking as he landed. A moment later, another fell to the ground, turning end over end. But it was not Natasha's doing.

"ED!" Peter again, yelling from somewhere to her left. His face was pulled in fear as he watched his younger brother stare down a walkway of Telmarines. Arrows twanged as they shot at him and Natasha felt her heart clench, the battle momentarily forgotten for both she and Peter. But Edmund disappeared, ducking into a side door, safe for the moment.

They, on the other hand, would not be so lucky.

Steadfast, clever Ronan buckled beneath her, his horse scream visceral and ear-splitting. Arrows peppered his flank and he reared on last time before toppling back, Natasha with him. She let go at the last moment, rolling away before the dying Horse could pin her down. "Ronan! Ronan, NO!" she screamed, fighting tears as she crawled to his head. But his eyes had already gone dark. "Ronan," she breathed, patting his velvety nose.

A strong hand gripped her shoulder and she exploded, taking up her sword with murderous intent, only to find Peter pulling her to her feet. He was breathing hard, eyes wild with worry. "You all right?" he managed, keeping hold of her arm.

She nodded, pushing back her grief. _Just like Ierfin_. _Another sacrifice to war. _

He didn't look so convinced but when she opened her mouth to protest, a figure appeared on a balcony overlooking the carnage, smirking to himself. Miraz in all his dark, twisted splendor.

Natasha didn't need to see Peter's face to know his mind. He looked between her and Miraz, torn. "Kill him," she growled, allowing herself to be ruled by her battle-anger. With one stern nod, he was already sprinting towards the castle, his intent clear. Again her blood ran cold. "Susan, get his back!" she screamed, whirling to the other Queen. She moved to Susan's back, fighting off any who would dare cross her.

Arrows flew from Susan's bow, each one finding their mark as Peter bounded up the steps, loosing Rhindon on Telmarine throats as he went. A Minotaur led the way, Peter close behind. They made a formidable pair, racing up the stone steps towards Miraz. For a moment, it seemed like it might work as the Beast leapt at the king, just within reach when a crossbow bolt caught him in the heart.

Miraz pushed him back with the coldest of sneers, watching as the Beast fell away, dead.

The body fell past a stone-cold Peter, still a level below, just within earshot of Miraz and his captains. Above the din of the battle, he caught fateful words: "Get the gate closed."

And then he saw it all, the deadly mess he had put them in. He and Caspian both.

"NATASHA! SUSAN!" he yelled, forgetting all other things. "Get out! Get out now!"

But his words were lost to them, both fighting for their lives as the battle turned against the Narnians. The tide of Telmarines separated them, forcing Natasha towards the stables. She fought with a long knife in one hand, sword in the other, turning and slicing as she ignored her own body.

Her Telmarine foe kicked out, sending her falling back into the stable. She landed against a post, still fighting tooth and nail when a pair of strong, equine legs kick, knocking the Telmarine out cold. Whirling, Natasha nearly wept in disbelief; what was clearly a Talking Horse looked back at her, tethered to the wall.

"A little help would be greatly appreciated," the Horse said, pulling at her rope. An echo of agreement came from around the stable as other imprisoned Talking Horses begged to be freed. And Natasha happily obliged.

* * *

In the courtyard, the clang and groan of breaking chains, then the falling gate sounded above all things, harbingers of doom.

Susan turned in time to see a Minotaur throw itself under the gate, struggling to hold it up against crushing weight. She knew as well as anyone else; should the gate fall, so would they.

Peter watched in horror as Natasha disappeared into the stable, a Telmarine bearing down on her. Part of him wanted to chase after her, save her, take her far away from here, but the shrinking army at his feet drew him back. He knew battle. And he knew when a battle was lost. Drawing a heavy, hard breath, he yelled words he hated above all others.

"FALL BACK!"

* * *

At the end of the row, Natasha stopped, eyes falling on a beautiful white horse. No, a Horse. Those eyes were too bright. And judging by the tack and exquisite stall, this wasn't just a Horse, but Miraz's own war charger.

In spite of herself, Natasha smirked wickedly. The old American tune rang in her head. _This land is your land. This land is my land._

She cut the charger's bonds with relish before gesturing to his smooth back.

"May I?"

* * *

Horses bounded through the courtyard, trampling a good many Telmarines as they followed the army out the gate. Natasha followed them out, riding bareback on Miraz's horse (whose Narnian name was Eldirian). Her braids had half come undone by now and she looked downright barbarian, sword in hand as she searched wildly for Peter.

"To the gate!" he called, pointing with his sword, directing his army into full retreat. His eyes fell on Natasha, battered but alive, and he almost laughed in relief. "Go!" he added, this time for her.

Her eyes blazed, watching him stand resolute and unmoving, even pushing others toward the gate. "After you!"

Glenstorm galloped between them, Susan on his back. They cleared the gate with ease, riding out towards safety.

"Natasha, GO!" he bellowed, starting towards her. But Caspian cut him off, riding up with Dr. Cornelius and a fresh horse for Peter. None of them heard the order that would be the last nail in many a coffin.

The air seemed to burn with crossbow bolts, leveling Beast and Telmarine alike.

"Narnian Horse, I command you," Peter roared to Eldirian, leaping onto his own horse, "GET HER OUT OF HERE!"

"Peter, no-!" but Eldirian charged, seeming to fly towards the gate. Nothing she could do would stop him.

The Minotaur howled as bolts snapped into him, but still he held the gate, unwilling to fail. On the other side, Natasha yanked the reins, forcing Eldirian to rear and nearly fall.

"PETER!" she screamed, watching as he follows Caspian and Cornelius, the wave crossbow bolts gaining on them. This time, her heart really did stop as she saw it all. The Minotaur quivered, threatening to collapse. The Telmarines jeered as Narnian blood stained the stone. And Peter's time was nearly spent.

He ducked, barely clearing the portcullis behind Caspian, and she nearly fell off her horse in relief. But just as she was about to smile, the Minotaur moaned once more and fell, the iron falling with him, trapping the rest of the Narnian soldiers, sentencing them to death.

Peter stopped his horse short, looking back. His heart broke at the sight of the Narnians, his people, left with naught but a final cold sting. And what's worse - it was for nothing.

"We have to go," Natasha murmured, her voice thick with despair. He barely heard her over the song of crossbows.

And then, overhead, the griffin's lament sounded as it watched another piece of the old world die.

* * *

**Again, thank you guys for your all support and feedback. Sorry if there are any random tense changes, it's an issue I have since almost everything I write now is script form and therefore present tense. Which does not work here. **

**Review please and yet again, I'm sorry I'm so damn slow at updating. But the next part is my favorite! So stay tuned!**


	11. Memories Grow Stronger

**What? Am I actually updating within weeks instead of months? THIS IS CRAZY!**

* * *

**DAUGHTER OF EVE**

**Return to Narnia**

**XI**

* * *

Night slowly gave over to dawn. The sky, steadily fading from black to blue, was the only indication that time itself had not stopped at this, their darkest hour. In her heart, Natasha sorely wished it would. She would not be forced to look at those they had so cruelly robbed of their loved ones. They could just go on marching in silence forever, never facing the dawn and their own dispair. But the sun would rise - and Miraz would come.

The army, the humans, even the birds were quiet, sensing the pain and despair that followed the broken host back to their camp at the How. Natasha forced her mouth open once or twice but could not speak. She had no words of comfort for Peter, or even herself. They had underestimated the Telmarines, plain and simple.

It cost her dearly before and would do so again.

* * *

_Strong hands lifted her and carried her away, even as she screamed, even as the whole world seemed to collapse in fire and snowy ash. The sky darkened with smoke, blotting out the sun, throwing the battlefield into an eerie midday dusk. _

_Somewhere, a Narnian horn sounded the retreat, though she'd given no order. _

_Her arms curled around herself as a new darkness took hold, pulling her down into numbing sleep. Before she succumbed, she caught sight of her hands wrapped around her belly. _

_They were red and slick with blood._

_

* * *

_

The How arched out of the earth, slick with dew in the watery blue light of dawn. Under normal circumstances, the sight would be a great relief to her feet, sore from walking such a distance. Instead, she trembled, wanting very much to turn and disappear into the woods. But she would not.

Following Peter, her hair wild, face streaked with dirt, blood and a few stolen tears, she looked like some war demon, like Enyo following Ares into Hell itself.

His jaw worked furiously as he bit back a thousand evil words. His pace was fierce and constant, always a few feet ahead of the others. Natasha knew he couldn't bear to look at them, not after what he'd done, what _they_ had done. She wanted so badly to take his hand, to whisper words of encouragement or sympathy, but knew it would do no good. He needed time to heal, as everyone did.

The rest of the Narnians filed out of the How, eager to meet them. A red dress stood out against the green hill, watching them return with wide, worried eyes - Lucy.

Peter forced himself to meet her gaze, hand on his sword. He knew the question was coming, but didn't have to like it.

"What happened?" Lucy asked, voice quavering.

Peter didn't stop, nodding to Caspian. "Ask him."

It took all of a half-second for Susan, walking behind Natasha, to jump in. "Peter!" she warned, eyes darting between her brother and the prince.

"Me?" Caspian balked, slowing to a halt. Peter mirrored him, face etched in disgust. "You could have called it off, there was still time!"

Fearing the worst, Natasha took Peter's arm, careful to keep a firm grip should his temper get the best of him. "Peter, it won't do any good-."

"No there wasn't, thanks to you," Peter spat, ignoring her. "If you'd kept to the plan," his voice thickened, "those soldiers might still be alive right now."

He turned, shrugging Natasha off, wanting nothing more than the quiet, solitary dark of the How, but Caspian followed, his voice and anger rising.

"And if you'd just stayed here like I suggested, they definitely would be!" he snapped.

Natasha looked between the two, not fully understanding. Caspian flubbed the plan? Peter should have called off the raid?

"You called _us_, remember?" Peter taunted, gesturing to himself and Natasha.

"My first mistake," Caspian growled back, nearly baring teeth.

"No," Peter scoffed, turning back to the How again. "Your first mistake was thinking you could lead these people."

Natasha took his arm again, eager to get him away from the powder keg and Peter allowed her to half-lead him away. He fumed all the while, breathing heavily, but accepted her arm. Fighting like this would get them nowhere.

"HEY!" Caspian yelled, all propriety forgotten. "I am not the one who _abandoned_ Narnia."

She felt Peter twitch with anger, stopping short. His reason evaporated and he turned, eyes alight with violent fire.

"Caspian, you don't know what you're talking about-," Natasha heard herself say, but Peter stepped in front of her.

"No," he growled, stalking back towards Caspian. "You _invaded _Narnia." He stopped inches from Caspian's face, seething and yelling, "You have NO MORE RIGHT to lead them than Miraz does."

Caspian winced and pulled away, pushing past Peter, trying to reach the How.

But Peter wasn't finished. "You, him - your _father_!"

Caspian froze and a deathly quiet fell.

"That's enough-," Natasha hissed but to no avail.

"Narnia's better off without the lot of you!"

"Peter!" She moved in front of him, grabbing his shoulders.

"Murderers and usurpers, that's all you're good for!"

Caspian shook with anger. A blackness filled his eyes.

"Blood and lies-!"

The ring of steel drowned out the High King. He reacted with speed, pushing Natasha out of the way as he drew his own sword, crossing blades with Caspian.

They stared each other down, both ready to pass the point of no return as the Narnians and Pevensies looked on in anguish. Natasha, cast to the side, forced herself to step forward, laying a hand on each sword. Blood still stained them both.

"Both of you," she growled, her voice deepening into something regal and terrible. "That is enough."

Caspian kept his eyes on Peter, his sword still raised. "This does not concern you, Iron Queen."

"Natasha, stand back," Peter muttered, holding Caspian's gaze. "I can handle this."

She did move away, but only to circle the pair, as a hawk would its prey. She turned on Caspian first.

"You call yourself a prince?" she murmured, quiet and deadly as she walked around him. Caspian shivered and she knew all the stories about her ran through his mind. "You wouldn't last one day on the throne."

Peter smirked to himself, happy to see Natasha on his side.

"And you!" she rounded on him. His smirk quickly faded. "You call yourself a king? Well act like it!" She looked between them both now. "You're nothing but children bickering over a chess set!

Both cowed, they lowered their swords a few inches, enough for Natasha to stamp down on them. The swords fell, clanging together in the grass. Peter reached for his instinctively but she kicked it away, glaring at him and Caspian both.

"I'm not finished!" she snapped. "These are real people, not pawns for you to fight over!" Her eyes slid back to the bedraggled army, softening slightly. "You want to rule them?" She shook her head, disgusted. "You can't even rule yourselves. I'm ashamed of you both."

"What you should be ashamed of is what you did to Telmar, the thousands you killed in the famine!" Caspian shot back, standing so that he towered over her.

But she did not quail, drawing her dagger instead. "Would you like to see history repeat herself?" Caspian couldn't help but draw back, gulping. "I didn't think so."

"Always one for dramatics, aren't you Tasha?" Peter said, a sneer worming into his voice. He still glared at Caspian, who looked more embarrassed than angry now.

Natasha only frowned at Peter. "Grow up."

"After you."

He made to walk away, pausing only to pick up his sword, when Natasha spoke again.

"You stop right there, High King," she said, her voice clear and stern. "You've a duty to do."

Though he very much wanted to disobey her, if only for his pride, he forced himself to stop and turn, agreeing with a single, begrudging nod.

Her eyes fell on Caspian as she put away her dagger. "You as well."

* * *

While Lucy and Susan attended to the wounded, Natasha led Peter and Caspian towards the How but steered away from the yawning entrance. They followed her to the collection of Narnians they left behind, Peter looking sullen and Caspian bewildered. He didn't understand what they were doing.

But Peter remembered very well and as Natasha met the first, a grayed Satyr who gave two sons to the cause, he immediately became grave and solemn, a picture of respect.

"We are honored by your sons, Ragan and Ganar, my friend," Natasha said, kissing the Satyr on both cheeks. She held his hands tightly, almost reverently. "They fought bravely for Narnia's freedom." Caspian could see by the set of her jaw, the brightness of her eyes, that she believed every word.

The Satyr nodded, squeezing her hands. "Thank you, High Queen." He looked at her, noticing the dents in her armor and many cuts on her skin. "It seems you did as well."

She brushed it off. "We will prevail, Gargan. We will be free. Your sons have done that."

Caspian watched in awe as Peter followed suit, clasping arms with Gargan and other Satyrs, Centaurs, Dwarves and even a Minotauress. Natasha remained at his side, comforting the mothers over their lost children. She seemed good at that.

They remembered every name, every death; each one was another weight on an already heavy heart. For all their temper and stubborn ways, they were truly High King and High Queen.

"I'm truly sorry," Caspian found himself murmuring to Natasha. She watched Peter thank an old Panther, kneeling to speak with him face to face.

"I'm sorry I pulled a dagger on you," she replied, catching him off guard. "I wasn't going to use it, of course, but sorry anyways."

He looked down on her, watching her watch Peter. Even in battle dress, looking like she'd been through hell and back, she was fiercely beautiful. But all her ferocity melted away as she saw the Panther try to hide his tears. Peter embraced him without question, whispering words of comfort to his subject.

"So I assume that the reason the plan went awry-," Caspian winced as she spoke, "was because you were rescuing him?" She gestured back to Dr. Cornelius, attending to the wounded with Lucy.

Caspian barely nodded, ashamed.

"We would have all done the same," she said. He recognizes the soothing tone in her voice - it was what she used on the grieving parents.

"Are you saying you have something in common with a Telmarine?"

A shadow of a smile crossed her face. "Don't push it."

They lapsed into a strangely easy silence, both watching Peter again. "He's a wonderful king, despite the temper," Caspian said ruefully.

Her smile truly did come. "You'd be surprised."

"What do you mean?"

She turned to look at Caspian, eyes twinkling. "The first year of his reign he lost four battles, offended dignitaries from three different countries, and almost started a war with Calormen because of a slight misunderstanding." Her mouth twitched, wanting to smirk. "I might have had something to do with the last one."

Caspian looked stunned. The thought that Peter had failed so much and so often was a strange comfort. "But things were-."

"Things were different, yes." Her smile faded away. She looked back to Peter, who looked about done with the Panther. "Your turn, I think."

And before he knew what was happening, Natasha gave Caspian a tiny shove towards a Centaur wife.

He stumbled a bit but quickly found his footing, taking her hands and speaking calmly.

"He may do all right," Peter grumbled, falling in next to Natasha. "Even if he is a mouthy prat."

"Behave. I'm still angry with you."

"At least I didn't try to knife him."

"I didn't knife _anyone_," she muttered, careful to keep her voice down. "Not in the last few hours."

Mention of the battle sobered Peter. "Yeah, I've been meaning to say well done with, you know, _that_. Especially getting those Horses out of there." He looked at his feet. "Seems like you were the only one to pull anything good out of that mess."

"Don't say that."

"It's true. We lost some of our best-."

"We proved that we are capable of infiltrating their castle, killing Miraz and fighting them to the last." She crossed her arms, forcing every last ounce of resolve into her voice. "Narnia is _not_ dead, Peter, so long as we believe in her."

Awkward silence fell between them, something unfamiliar to both. They watched quietly as Caspian comforted the Centaur.

They were looking on the future and they both knew it.

* * *

_Flickering, weak firelight brought her back, slowly pulling her through dark and murky water. She came to in her tent, still delirious with pain and fever. Strange, there was no one there, not even a physician to tend her many wounds. _

_Wounds._

_She sat up with a start, forgetting herself, and howled in pain. Her back arched against heavy bandages and she fell back, seeing hot stars. _

_"No," she whispered, pleading with no one. "No, please."_

_Seemingly on her own accord, her hands trailed their way across the bandages, working through them to the torn skin beneath. Her fingers grazed a long, stitched wound that worked its way across her abdomen. _

_"I am sorry, Daughter, for everything that has and will cause you pain." Aslan's words echoed in her mind as his golden face swam before her eyes, more terrible than she'd ever seen it. _

_Her eyes rolled back as wave after wave of painful realization hit her, forcing her back into darkness where there was no Aslan to taunt her. No Telmarines to cut her down. No country, no crown, no being._

_He knew this was coming. _

_He took Peter._

_He took her son._

_He took her hope.

* * *

_

**And closer and closer we get to the end! Sorry for all the movie dialogue at the beginning, I just couldn't find it in my heart to change most of it.**

**Speaking of hearts - see Toy Story 3. It's wonderful/ripped my heart out.**

**Review!**


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